#and i say this as someone who fully expects and is excited for a slow romance with yor and loid

[mae-i-scribble]

I rewatched a few of the early episodes of spyfam today bc getting to see the movie gave me an itch to scratch, and in particular episode two made me finally able to conceptualize what about fandom twiyor that irks me so deeply. If you like widespread fandom interpretations of them I would uh, look away bc none of my opinions on it are positive.

Episode 2 of the spyfam anime remains one of my favorites because of all the little flourishes the studios add to sell you on Yor as a character while also expanding a bit on the manga's original commentary on the stigma that follows older single women. What draws Yor and Loid together as a family is that neither of them are capable of having conventional relationships. Both of them are war orphans forced to grow up far too soon and who threw away aspects of their humanity to fight for what they believe to be a better world. While Loid's position as a spy and mastery of deception allows him to avoid the stigmas that would come from the ordinary person discovering what he does, that is not something that holds true for Yor, whose weakest point is that she simply cannot understand "normal." She's aware of the way her coworkers demean her and insult her but can do nothing about it because her only conflict resolution skill is murder. She is constantly reminded that she is an outsider, hence why Loid's declaration at the party is so meaningful to her, and what convinces her to ask him to continue the facade as a married couple.

Underneath it all however, is a quiet showcase of amatonormativity that drove both Loid and Yor to their arrangement. Eden requires a student to have a perfectly nuclear family. Societal conventions dictate that Yor, happily single at 27, is someone pathetic (to her coworkers) or someone in need of help (to her brother). Marriage is an expectation that Yor is pressured to commit to, and a societal requirement that Loid must uphold for the sake of his mission. And while this showcase begins in episode 2 it is something that spyfam continues to highlight when it comes to the expectations both Loid and Yor struggle to meet when they try to hard/become to anxious over what is "expected" as a married couple vs what the other person is actually thinking/feeling.

Now, what the fuck does this have to do with fandom you ask? Here's the thing. Spyfam reached the broad range of anime fans when it exploded in popularity, which is when I started engaging with it beyond just comments on the latest manga chapters. Modern fandom already has the issue of classifying ships into tropes rather than actually like, shipping characters as they are. And that's exactly what happened with twiyor. People began going "oh my gosh this is the moment she fell for loid," "oh he's so in love with her just look at him," before we had even reached episode 10. Which was incredibly frustrating to me because clearly Loid and Yor are not anywhere near in love that soon in the story- and the basis for that frustration starts in episode 2 for me. Because Loid and Yor's marriage is one that is unconventional from the very beginning, and it is that factor that defines their dynamic an allows them to function as healthily and sweetly as they do. People don't need to be in love to be married or to be a parental unit. None of that requires romantic love, it is simply an expectation of our society, the same sort of expectation that cripples Yor and makes her think she has to find a partner, then that she has to find a husband to appease those around her. Seeing that completely erased in a large portion of art/commentary/fics written about them angers me because its something baked into the foundation of their dynamic and something I feel enhances them as a potential romantic pairing rather than detracts from it. But we can't have that because of course a man and woman living together and caring for a kid fell in love almost immediately.

And don't even get me started on how people misinterpret Loid for their far more romantic interpretations of his motivations and relationship with Anya and Yor or else I will start losing teeth from how hard I am clenching my jaw

[restinslices]

Lin Kuei Bros: Play Fighting

Smoke so dramatic-. Anyway, don’t ask why I thought of this. The voices were loud

Bi-Han

Play fighting with any of them is bold as fuck but HIM? You don't like your life 

I'm not saying he's gonna straight up assault you but out of all the brothers, he has the highest chance of hitting you hard as shit on accident 

He probably wouldn't even like play fighting that much. He'd prefer sparring cause at least you're working on your skills. Why you just fucking around?

You gotta catch him on the right day. Some days he's busy and some days he's just legit not in the mood. 

“Imma start it off slow. Imma scope the scenery out-”

If you somehow get this man to cooperate, first of all good job. Second of all, y'all do not stop until you give up. 

The type to pin you down and not let go until you admit he won. If you refuse, you're legit not moving. 

This is a big guy so you're not moving him. You give up, he lets go and you manage to crack a smile out of him

We never see him smile in the game but listen bitch, I'm here for the fantasy-

If he's not in the mood, I can see him just saying “no” like you're a puppy or smth. 

You'd go to swing on him again and he'd either grab your hand or give you a look that tells you he's being serious 

Going back to him accidentally hitting you hard as shit, he's used to sparring with two other buff ass men. Imma guess you're not as buff as them, and some of y'all reading this ain't men. Accidents are bound to happen 

You'd think the Grandmaster would have more control but I just think it slips sometimes. He's stupidly prideful and he's used to sparring so sometimes that's where his mind goes. Also once again, he probably sometimes forgets a hit Kuai Liang could handle is a hit that'll take years off your life. 

I would love to say he gets on his knees and apologizes but this is the same man who betrayed his brothers and was like “why y'all tweaking?” so um… 

You're gasping for air and he's “see why I always say no?”

I feel like I'm making him sound abusive but as someone who's play fought with my older siblings, they hit you hard as shit then tell you you're a bitch when a tear slips out. Why the fuck are you hitting me this hard in my chest? You got 5+ years on me-

He's an older brother. He's gonna hit hard. I swear it's in their DNA 

And if he does apologize it's not really verbal. He checks to make sure your limbs are alright then offers to do something else. 

“Are you gonna say you're sorry?” “For?” “For almost breaking my damn lung” “You started this”

You'd expect that the next time you wanna play fight he'd decline cause he doesn't wanna hurt you again. Wrong. 

Remember he's an older brother. THE older brother. Y'all squaring up again. You don't care about your health so fuck it. 

Honestly would be super fun besides the limb you're gonna lose 

Kuai Liang

Would be more cooperative than Bi-Han but still isn't overly excited to play fight 

Bi-Han is the “tell mom. I don't care” older brother. Kuai Liang is the “wait wait wait, I'm sorry. You can hit me back. Calm down. You want some candy?” older brother 

Fully aware he could cause terrible injuries but as time passes on, he relaxes more 

Definitely play fought as a kid but after Tomas started jumping everytime he heard his voice, he thought “maybe I need new hobbies”.

You’ve interrupted his recovery

He actively focuses on holding back and being soft even if you tell him not to

“Hit me harder” “No❤”

Honestly a fun time though. He holds back when it comes to strength but still tussles with you. Also let's you get hits in even when he could easily dodge them. 

If he accidentally injured you frfr, he's checking up on you immediately and says y'all stopping for today. 

“No, I'm ok” “Can you even breathe right now?” “Uhhh… yes😀” “We're done”

For sure feels like an asshole depending on how bad you're hurt. He's not sliding down the wall in pain but he's like “damn, that was a little too hard”. 

“You can hit me back” “No. I've seen Twilight” “What?” “It's gonna hurt me more than it's gonna hurt you. I'm not doing that”. (Now I wanna write you making them watch Twilight. I'm never gonna be rid of this addiction-)

You gotta hit him back so y'all can be even. It's the only way to move on

Y'all are not doing that shit again for at least another week or so. 

“We gotta scrap right here right now” “No”

Does the thing older siblings do when they put their hand on your head so when you swing at them, you're just hitting air. 

It's so infuriating so you gotta stop. 

The next time though, you swear you're gonna win. You will not. 

Tomas Vrbada

The most willing and having the most fun 

Tomas has two older brothers that probably jumped him on several occasions growing up and you're gonna try and convince me he doesn't have aggression to get out?

People would probably expect he's the softest but no. He's the youngest. As the youngest myself I can assure you, we are used to putting our all in these fights cause we gotta use all our strength to defeat these evil mfs we live with. Sometimes it's not enough-

You're not his older sibling so he's not scrapping like his life depends on it but I do think he's hitting somewhat hard 

Not as hard as Bi-Han, not as soft as Kuai Liang 

You feel his hits but it's not knocking the wind outta you 

Super fun cause he's also using the environment. Definitely is grabbing a pillow and starts swinging it at you. Definitely is running around the couch to chase you. Definitely has thrown you but made sure to aim at something soft. He's probably even turned off the lights then threw a folded blanket at you 

“Cheater” “Don't be upset you didn't think of it first”

You're fighting but laughing at the same time. There's no real tension. Just fucking around. 

Probably starts initiating it too

If he does injure you fr, for a split second he'd actually see it as a victory then he'd remember you're not his older brothers and is like “oh shit-”. 

Injuring those two would mean freedom (or a worse jumping. really depends), injuring you is not good. 

He knows how bad those hits can hurt so he makes sure you're alright. He's not watching you as much as Kuai Liang would but he'd still make sure you're not overly sore. 

He doesn't feel as bad as Kuai Liang would cause he kinda knows this shit happens. Kuai Liang kinda got a little bit of guilt cause Tomas gets into a fighting stance when he raises his hand up. Tomas hasn't victimized anyone so he's more chill about these situations 😭

Tells you random ass stories about when he used to play fight with his brothers. 

“One time Bi-Han threw me in the air and Kuai Liang jumped to catch me only to throw me against the wall”

“This reminds me of when Bi-Han swept my feet from under me and Kuai Liang jumped on me”

“What is it called when someone jumps on you elbow first?”

“This one time I woke up to them standing over me. I knew it was a wrap”

“One time Bi-Han slapped the back of my neck so hard, it was red for at least a week”

“One time Kuai Liang-” “Tomas… you need a therapist” “I don't think that's what it is”

Unlike Kuai Liang who makes you wait, he's cool with scrapping days later. 

Actually says “time out” when he wants a break. Also says “time in” fast as fuck though to catch you off guard 

Legit the most fun brother. I don't make the rules (except I do). 

I did not mean to write the least for Kuai Liang but I was really brain empty for him. Y’all should give me ideas, thanks bookie

[ryescapades]

maelstrom | kaiju no. 8

characters: narumi gen x gn!reader contents: angst, hurt no comfort, platoon leader!reader a/n: this is rather descriptive than anything hm 1.1k wc

this is the fifth time.

your leg continued to bounce under the table, eyes darting between the glass panel just beside the booth and the phone sitting on the table. the device’s screen remained dark, no notification coming in from a certain someone that you’ve been expecting to see.

the cafe you were at was bustling with life, waiters scurrying around with trays in their hands and customers going about their activities as they enjoyed their served orders. well, at least there were people who were enjoying their time here. sadly enough, you couldn’t say the same for yourself.

you’d been sitting at your assigned booth for almost an hour— or forty-five minutes to be exact, feeling out of your skin in the outfit that was carefully picked out for this particular day. it was supposed to be a simple outing, a simple date. one which you haven’t been on with your boyfriend for quite a while. you’d barely seen him at all the past few weeks either.

you’d fully understood what it means to date an important figure in the defense force, you really do. hell, you know how little free time you have in your hands as a platoon leader yourself, let alone a division captain.

you could never blame narumi for being busy with work but that doesn't mean it hurts any less when he misses another one of your dates or quick meetups. he’d agreed to meet up with you that day, and like a forlorn wife waiting for her dead husband to return from war, you held onto the miniscule chance that he’d arrive anytime soon.

all these times, the reason why it scrapes at your heart so painfully is not because of his absence, but rather his reasoning behind it. the lack of it, in fact. he always sounded so… dismissive whenever it happened. almost as if he didn’t give it any thought to rationalize why he decided to leave you hanging.

it has come to the point where you started to go along with his excuses, not bothering to pester him with the what and why because you know that’s not something he’d like to entertain repetitively. narumi gen is his own person, and you have no right to bind him down with your neediness.

but you were supposed to be his partner… is it such a bad thing to ask for just a fraction of his time?

a faint ping from your phone caught your attention, bringing your consciousness back to the flaking reality.

if this was a few weeks back, you would’ve lunged for the phone as soon as you’d heard the notification coming in, all excited and giddy. there would’ve been hearts in your eyes, jitters on the tip of your fingers and butterflies in your stomach.

but at that time, only dread and uncertainty settled in your mind. the voices of the customers around you rang in your ears, ice cubes clinking in the plastic cup of your drink as they started to melt and condense out at the side of the container. with slow fingers, you swiped across the screen and opened the new message you received.

a scoff (or is it a laugh? if so, it’s a self-mocking one at that) of deprecation, fraught and disappointment escaped from your mouth then. something ugly and sinister coiled deep in your gut, and you had to bite down on your lips to prevent the cry from coming out.

it was just a few words, but those few words made you feel like you’d just been slapped right across the face.

‘sorry, can’t come today. just remembered i had stuff to do with hasegawa.’ the text said.

maybe you were too ambitious, too hopeful; falling in love with a man such as narumi gen, someone so powerful and revered in the eyes of others, wishing for him to look at you the same way you do him. you couldn’t even remember when it first started, and at this point you don’t know what’s more devastating; the fact that you were spiraling down headfirst and blindly into this aphotic void, or that he was almost never there to catch you.

perhaps this had been a long time coming, and all the lonely, sorrowful nights you’ve spent pondering over the what ifs have calamitously accumulated in your brain, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel guilty of the way pettiness festered inside your ruptured mind.

because a few days after narumi had last stood you up, you’d unapologetically told him that you’re cutting things off. through text. and it wasn’t even a question; it was a statement. clear and straight to the point, just like how his excuses used to be.

life after that never came easy either. everything just feels exhausting, both physically and mentally. amidst the grueling tasks of training, reporting and subjugating kaiju, you’d always find yourself lost in thought, unconsciously pondering about your… ex-boyfriend.

god, how much you despise that label. especially now that he holds that very same title.

it’s funny, really; how tight of a chokehold the man has on you. ever since you broke things off, your days have been filled with this chest-hollowing pain. you haven’t been as well-rested as before, your baths haven’t felt as comforting, your meals haven’t been as fulfilling, and all the things you’d usually find joy in suddenly felt like such a hassle.

narumi's absence has been agonizingly loud.

and it hurts to see that he’s faring well without you; he oversees the division’s training as usual, he reviews your reports and talks to you like you were just acquaintances, he sends you off to missions like you were any other soldier in his troop, like nothing ever happened - like the two of you never happened.

does he not love you anymore? has he moved on already? how can he sleep at night knowing what he’d done to you? that soul-binding connection you used to have… was it not real? or was it just in your head all along?

sometimes you wonder how pitiful you would have to be for him to realize how badly he affected you, how crushing it feels to watch the world you’d built with him fall apart every time he’d neglected you.

one of japan’s pillars of defense, the country’s strongest anti-kaiju combatant. his burgeoning personage keeps drifting further away, overwhelmingly unreachable like the depth of a never-ending vortex.

you’d always been the one who loves harder, and now you’d have to live with what was left of your crumbling heart, for the rest of it has long sunken from the wreckage of his love.

once again i had a thought.

taglist @maruflix @pixelcafe-network @ouiouimochi @yueliie @justwinginglife @lumiambrose @minasfwoopyponytail @17020 @bgyuus @moon-cakiie @stunies

©🅁🅈🄴��🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[onelittlespiral]

Hey, it's been pretty hard to motivate myself to write lately with my new job, so I want to reward someone who's doing a great job getting his work done lately. I want to give idesofrevolution a nice musky dudebro transformation he'll really love, and hopefully the mystery transformation gives me some more free time to be horny and creative.

Subject: Order #100690

Dear Fred,

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100690 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Bro(Musk)_From_Friend(Online; Blog)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Please note that due to the subject’s history with transformations, delivery methods may be delayed or gradual. Expect fulfillment in 2-3 weeks.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

You couldn’t wait to hear back from The Spiral, checking your inbox every couple of hours for any updates on delivery. Training was slow and boring at the new office, so there wasn’t much to do besides sit through the standard HR videos on one monitor and scroll social media on the other. That was when you received an email notification. You opened it up, and excitement turns to disappointment. Just another boring diversity video. You pop it up on the side, plug in your headphones, and wait for the stock music and graphics to start. Except, this one is different. You are watching from a first person perspective as a man walks into a room and lies down on a couch. The camera captures his enormous pecs, hiding the rest of his torso, as they flex a little. You glance around the office, nervous about who may be watching. Something must be wrong, this can’t be your afternoon assignment. But your eyes are drawn back to the screen when the door opens again and another beautiful man graces the screen. Your eyes fix on his, as he leans into the camera for a kiss. You can almost feel his heat through the screen, and you’re soon relaxed in your chair, watching the show.

As he slowly grinds against you, you subconsciously begin to rub at your own crotch, simulating his movements. You begin to feel a horny fog fill your mind as you begin to buy into the fantasy, beginning to ignore your surroundings and forget about your coworkers. It isn’t long before your dick is fully out, imaging how good it feels to have his soft hands rubbing your hardening member. You don’t even notice how much you are beginning to leak pre-cum, synchronized with when he places his delicate lips on your cock and takes the whole member in one motion. You lean back in your chair and let the waves of pleasure relax your muscles. You begin to feel so heavy, as your arms grow tired of stroking. You place them behind your head, letting this experience overtake you as you continue to have your cock expertly worked by a pro. You begin to match his tempo, thrusting in time. Your grunts are getting deeper as you begin to get close. Your partner feels it coming, and steadies his tempo. He doesn’t want you to come too soon. But the fog in your brain is only intensify, leaving you more aroused by the moment. You aren’t able to hold it in much longer.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you, and you better not miss a drop,” you say, and his eyes show understanding. You reach out and tug at his hair, taking control of the tempo as his eyes begin to water. But he doesn’t have to worry for too long. You are soon dumping your load in his stomach, and he cums hands free in turn, as the director gets the money shot.

“CUT! That’s a wrap.”

Your partner gets up and wipes himself down. You just grab your shorts and sit back down on the couch.

It’s going to be a long day of shooting, but you love it. At least here you get to be horny and own it. And, more importantly, get paid. Could be worse. You could be stuck at some stuffy office job. Just then your phone buzzes with a notification. One of your friends just posted, let’s see… oh, @idesofrevolution. Good thing too, you had been worried about Frost. Annnnd a second notification from your management company, The Spiral. They were sending you some confirmation info… something about the Doctor himself coincidentally enough. Seemed to be some details about a movie scene or something meant for him, so probably some mix up. Let’s see what it says…

Dr. Frost was has some background knowledge on our methods from years of research into his own transformation methods. Consequently we took a more gradual approach. Slowly, we began introducing neural waves throughout his day to prime him. In his home, in his car, on his blog, we implemented subtle messages about growth. About muscle. About musk. After all, who needs to waste so much time showering every day? When his deodorant sticks keep going missing, what was the point in buying more? After all, he no longer had much time to go to the store, as he logged off from work and drove straight to the gym every day. At first he wondered why he was suddenly so worried about his health. But as we continued to amplify our waves, he soon stopped worrying. It was natural to want to be strong. It was natural to reek. It was natural to feel good, bro. I’m in control.

As his musk intensifies, he is only conditioning himself to become more and more self indulgent. We began alternating frequencies, sending his testosterone through the roof, driving a new crop of hair growth and keeping his balls plenty full. Between his pit stench and constant gym pump, he is keeping himself at a near constant leak of pre-cum, and quickly soiling any attempt at covering himself up. Not that he cares. He hasn’t showered in a few weeks, only allowing himself tongue baths from whatever gym bro he catches staring and manages to get into his truck for a make out sesh. His memories are evaporated, nothing more than a sweat stain on his favorite cap. His brain is so high on his own supply, our neural waves had to be amplified to get through his brain fog. Hell, he can hardly form a proper sentence, bro. We have taken the liberty of updating his blog to more accurately reflect his new interests. His stories have been replaced with his thirst traps and progress photos. We are satisfied with his progress and have left him to continue his journey of his own, new and improved, free will.

You should really reach out to him sometime. See if he wants to take his modeling career in a new, more exciting direction. Could be fun to suck that musky cock…

Subject: Order #100690 Fulfilled

Dear Fred,

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

[butch-with-a-deep-voice]

"I think this is my favourite way to touch you" she said lovingly, while gently tracing circle after circle with her nails along my bare back.

"What?"

"Scratching your back, I think it's one of my favourite ways to touch you. That, or playing with your hair."

I post a lot about how stone4stone love has been healing for me in a way that is so profound and almost spiritual, but finally having it in person has only taken that to a whole other level. My darling femme saying this caused my entire world to slow down as I processed what, up until that point, I thought impossible. A fantasy that would never fully be spoken.

For context, my top three favourite ways to be given physical intimacy/love are the following:

Having my hair played with over long periods of time

Scratching my back and scalp

Massage, especially when chronic pain flare ups are bad

I react so intensely that it excites people a lot of the time. You'd think I was having sex if you were simply listening to the sounds from the other room (which is ironic given I actively hate receiving during, joys of being stone). For my entire life, for my nearly 15 years of dating, every single person before my femme has followed the same pattern.

They'll discover how positively I react to scratches/hairplay, and they actively engage in it regularly due to the advent of your new partner enjoying something that much. Inevitably they get bored but will continue because it makes me happy. Eventually though, the novelty fully wears off and the only true way I can get that level of attention is when I explicitly ask for it. I've often gotten sighs followed by "oh alright" as if it's some chore, or worse yet, half sarcastic "if only you made sounds like this during sex". Every single time I'd inevitably start feeling guilty, anxious, and simply stop asking.

The sheer number of times I'd ask myself "if I said I never wanted to receive during sex again, if I wanted intimacy in only this way, would so-n-so be upset" and the answer was always yes. Always. I'd begun to internalize that my way of receiving was a chore. That how I wanted to be loved was a reward to be earned.

Then comes this absolute darling of a femme, unprompted during our quiet night of non-sexual intimacy after a long day, casually dropping that her favourite way to show me physical intimacy is tied between scratching my back and playing with my hair. By accident in a single half-entraced phrase she took my perceptions of love, what I deserve from love, and what I could expect to receive, shattered them into a thousand fragments, and then stitched them back together into a mosaic that would make the Byzantines weep.

There is something to be said for your partner loving you in a specific way because it is how you like to be showed love, even though it's not their preferred method of showing it. It is a league-of-its-own different feeling to find someone who shows you love the way you want to be shown love because it's how they prefer to show love. She has taught me that and I am never settling for less again.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.

Stone4Stone is Holy.

[storiesabouteli]

There He Was. // Elijah Hewson X Reader! (Fluff)

prompt: just a short fic about u2 (i'm sorry lol) realizing they're in love after you've had a bad date.

words: 1,8K.

  Your elbows had the marks from Ali's table edge, and she watched you carefully, as if she understood but didn't judge. You were afraid of going home and facing a different reality, so you sought refuge at Eli's house. Your chest felt heavy, though no tears fell, just brief moments of misty eyes that quickly faded.

 "Did he treat you badly?" Her voice was firm, maternal. She gently rubbed your shoulders and placed a glass of water in front of you. Ali had known you since you could remember and always seemed to understand what you needed, even if she didn’t say it outright.

 "It was strange. He treats me well when we're alone, but the problem is when we're with others." You didn’t elaborate much, not fully certain of your own feelings, or maybe you just didn’t want to be. Ali nodded, showing she was there for you. Your eyes drifted down the hallway as you questioned why you ended up there after such a terrible date. The picture of Eli on the wall reminded you of his first girlfriend and how he used to take time during band rehearsals to explain inside jokes to her, ensuring she felt included. You longed to be treated like that, to be cherished. But instead, you had someone who seemed tired of you in public.

 "Hey," Eli’s voice startled you, making you smile softly amid your inner chaos. His voice was rough and slow, probably because he was getting ready for bed. "What’re you doin’ here?" he asked, surprised. His oversized shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his pajama pants made him look like he was begging for a hug, especially with his messy hair.

 Ali glanced between the two of you, giving Eli room to sit next to you. As she left the room with a soft kiss on your forehead, you realized you and Eli were just staring at each other—not in an awkward way, but not entirely normal either. You felt a knot forming in your throat as you admitted, "I don’t think he really likes me."

 Eli sighed, adjusting in the chair beside you, his shoulder touching yours. The small gesture lightened the weight in your chest. "What did he do?" His voice was more alert now as he gently brushed your hair from your face, looking at you as if the situation were more serious than it seemed. Eli tolerated him out of respect for you, but it was clear he never liked the guy.

 "Nothing, I’m fine," you swallowed hard, but Eli's raised eyebrows made it clear he was waiting for you to go on. You felt stupid—you should have seen it coming. There was a reason he avoided you in the hallways or didn’t walk with you near his friends. He was older, attractive, and sweet when you were alone, but you had been just a distraction for someone you thought you could rely on longer.

 "You were so excited to go out with him today. I’m sorry it wasn’t what you expected." The tears returned, blurring your vision. You had never gone out with anyone before, but you had spent years watching Eli go through relationships, each one seeming good in its own way. You thought you could have the same, that it would be a positive experience. You craved the experience, not necessarily the person.

 Eli lightly held your hand, tracing it with his thumb. He was patient, despite his clear restlessness. "It was a mess. I thought I’d meet his friends, make new ones, and that it would be fun, you know? But..." You trailed off, watching the soft light in the room and Eli’s familiar curls from childhood, feeling a warm sensation in your chest. You continued, describing things Eli had never made you feel.

 "I ended up alone most of the time. He’d ask me to wait, disappear, and then come back like nothing had happened. The only interaction we had was when he made a vulgar comment about my outfit, and his friends laughed with him. It was so embarrassing. I don’t even know how I got into this situation," you chuckled weakly. "I don’t want to see him again, Eli."

 He scratched his chin, exhaling heavily, unable to hide his irritation. It wasn’t an overreaction—you knew him well. "I feel a bit stupid, and I should’ve paid attention when you didn’t like him," you admitted. Eli looked at you with a faint smile on his lips.

 "Him being an idiot isn’t your fault, and his behavior is just a reflection of his bad character." You hadn’t expected Eli to throw an "I told you so" in your face, but he proved to be exactly the person Eli had hinted at when he first commented about him. You had been blind, assuming those comments were more about how you’d spend less time with Eli now that you had someone else to hang out with.

 Eli stretched out his arm, pulling you toward him. Your head fell onto his shoulder, your cheek resting against the soft fabric of his shirt, his scent soothing you. You lifted your head briefly, meeting his caramel eyes fixed on you, and it felt right to be there. Resting your head back, you wrapped your arms around his waist, falling silent.

 Eli looked at you for a long moment, wondering how much the guy had hurt you. You had been happy to have someone new, but your conversations always circled back to the same issues, and Eli knew that no matter what you said, nothing would change. He noticed the waves of your hair, the makeup accentuating your eyes, and the form-fitting dress. He couldn’t remember when he first started thinking of you like this, but he realized now that you were beautiful—and maybe this wasn’t the first time he had caught himself contemplating it. The yellow jacket you wore made him wonder if it was a response to the jerk’s comment.

 He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You were always so talkative around him, so your silence bothered him. It made him want to fix things, as if he couldn’t bear to see someone he cared about so much feeling down.

 "Are you stayin’ here tonight?" he asked, eyes closed, still holding you.

 "Can I?"

…

 You could still feel his rings brushing against your fingers, a familiar, comforting sensation, much like the freckles on his face, which even in the moonlight seemed to exist just for you. Eli couldn’t sleep. You stayed in his bed while he settled on a mattress on the floor beside you, and the scent of you on the fabric brought him a quiet sense of peace. The silence spoke volumes, both of you knowing exactly what the other was thinking without uttering a single word. The next day dragged on, unremarkable yet heavy. You didn’t see him in the morning—you left for work right away. But you were glad to have seen Ali, thanking her for having welcomed you the night before and for making Eli in '99 so he can be good company for you these days.

  Ali’s warm embrace, her knowing smile—things you hadn’t realized you’d been craving for so long—left you wondering how long you had been blind to it. As you sorted through a stack of new CDs, deciding which ones to keep and which to shelve, the day felt oddly clear, as if a veil had been lifted. It dawned on you: your relationship with him wasn’t about seeking the experience you thought you wanted, but the experience you truly needed—with Eli. This wasn’t some fleeting teenage desire to kiss him passionately; it was deeper. You found yourself thinking about him all day, anticipating the next moment you could be near him because his presence simply made you feel good. And now that you realized it, you knew it wasn’t the first time you’d felt this way.

 Sure, you wanted to kiss him, but more than that, you wanted to rest your head on his shoulder, nap while he kissed the top of your head, and feel his fingers gently brushing your arm. The guys from last night came into the store, acting like they didn’t know you. Maybe they didn’t remember, but it didn’t matter—you felt out of place standing there in your uniform, weighed down by memories of the night before. You heard there had been a fight involving him, and you didn’t feel bad hoping the worst for him. They paid without looking you in the eye, and you became aware that was all they had to offer—nothing.

 You didn't like your uniform, that made it worse at that very moment, and then your thoughts drifted to Eli. He’d see you like this. He had seen you countless times before wearing that thing, but now you wondered—had he ever thought of you as more than just a childhood friend? Even with the mucus, bad uniforms, showing up with problems in the middle of the night, and poor taste in partners? As if summoned by your thoughts, there he was. 

 Eli walked into the store, head down, hair covering his face. Straightening up, you smiled at him, trying your best to look decent. "Did you bring food?" you asked, reaching for the bags in his hands, already greasy. He nodded, "Thought burgers and fries might brighten your day." You smiled, taking them in your hands, and noticed how his mood lifted to match yours. He could easily feel happy if you were.

 He lingered by the counter, giving you a shy smile when you turned to face him. You stared at him, noticing the redness around his eye—not a big mark, but sure to get worse with time. You couldn’t picture Eli in a fight; it wasn’t his nature, nor was he built for it. Asking him what happened would be pointless—you knew the answer, and he would deny it. Wiping your fingers, you walked over to him, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. "Was it bad? You’re not hurt more than this, are you?" Concern welled up, stinging your eyes. You've had the feeling of having him there for you when you needed him before, it was just more intense. He hugged you tighter, and you could feel his tension ease. "He’s worse off." You both laughed at it, as if it were mundane.

 You weren’t sure if it was true, but you couldn’t deny the satisfaction of imagining the jerk guy bruised. It was hard to believe anyone would do that for you, you were glad it was Eli. The thought crossed your mind—did he feel the same way? Has he thought of you like this before? His fingers traced soft circles on your back, his lips brushing your hair, his warm chest a steady comfort against your cheek as your breathing fell into sync. "Thank you, Eli, but don’t do something like that again. I prefer you in one piece." His laugh rumbled through you, and it made you calm. Eli had told his mother earlier that morning he wouldn’t let you go through more bad people before finding the good one. He thought, maybe, you’d be his next song if you’d only let him.

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 2 - Catalyst~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: You make your way to the Hazbin Hotel and quickly realize keeping to your list and helping the sinners might be more difficult than planned.

Themes: The usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness, cursing, fluff, eventual smut (it's coming, pun intended), actual plot, slow burn, and of course 18+, keeping these chapters shorter for easier reading

1.3k Words

Part 1 Part 2 (You're on it!) Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

"Please Carmilla, I really don't think you understand what this hotel could mean for--"

Carmilla raises her hand to cut you off. "I have too much going on - to PREPARE for - to entertain this 'redemption hotel'. If you wish to leave my safety so be it but I will not waste my time on such ludicrous ideas." Her words were sharp and concise. She was right. With extermination day coming sooner than expected she had plans to make and orders to fill. After some silence she looks up from her desk, softening when she sees the slight hurt in your eyes.

Taking a deep breath she walks over to you, grabbing your shoulders with a light squeeze. “You’ve learned so much and are so much wiser beyond your years here. I know how much this ‘redemption arc’ means to you even if I don’t fully support or understand it myself.” Her grip tightened as she sighed, carefully choosing her next words. “I need you to realize that I won’t be able to help you…to protect you…if you choose to go to that hotel. Are you ready to close our deal over the slightest possibility that little Morningstar girl is right?” Carmilla would never admit that she took a liking to you. If anyone asked, you were just there out of convenience as you never gave her much hassle. This gentle warning was her way of saying she cared about you - though neither of you would ever say such things out loud. Rule #3 Never bring anyone too close.

The lump in your throat grew as you fought off the tears trying to pool in your eyes. She knew the answer already. Just the idea of a hotel to redeem sinners went hand in hand with what you did for the souls you collected. Helping lost souls? Who knew you shared the same hopes and dreams as the Princess of Hell itself.

“I will always be grateful for what you’ve done for me Ms. Carmine. I believe our deal is done.” A bright light flashes between you and Carmilla. The thin pink thread tying the two of you together by the wrist fades in, snaps, then fades out of existence. “Good luck out there…you’re going to need it Ms. ‘Saving Grace’.” Carmilla jabs. You share a small smile with each other before she sees you out of her office.

Walking up to the hotel you were a bundle of nerves. Not out of worry ok maybe a little but pure excitement, mentally rehearsing what you were going to say. “Hey you know that Saving Grace Overlord everyone is curious about? Welp that’s me and I’m here to help!” Rule #2 Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have. You laugh to yourself knowing damn well that isn’t the way to go. No, you’ll need to play the part of a sinner looking for redemption. But you are a sinner looking for redemption!

You shake your head at the thought. You’re here to help Lucifer’s daughter not seek your own salvation. Taking a deep breath, you make the last few strides to the font of the hotel. The window in the door was clean enough for you to catch sight of your reflection. The walk from Carmilla’s slightly disheveled your usual cleanly pressed outfit. You adjust your black button-down shirt, fixing the sleeves so they're nicely rolled to the elbow and the shirt tail is gently tucked into your slacks. Hair slicked back into a high bun - damn these fly aways, let me just ----

The front door flies open and you’re suddenly nose to nose – or rather nose to chest – with the Princess of Hell.

"Oh shit! Wasn’t expecting someone to be standing there! Hi hello -welcome!! Are you here to check in?!" she says quickly recovering from the surprise.

You spend the next few hours with Charlie on a tour. The hotel was run down but just listening to her speak so passionately made you see all the extraordinary potential. You meet the other residents - the bartender, the maid, some snake, and the...uh spider angel thing? Fuck names are hard. There was so much information flying at you, everything was blurring together. With this being your new home you were sure to get a better understanding of who's who and names. Nothing to worry yourself with tonight.

Charlie and her girlfriend - Valley? No, Maggie? - lead you to your room. "And here is your new hopefully temporary home! Let us know if you need anything." Charlie wraps you into a hug that knocks the breath out of you. "Thanks so much" is about all you can get out as you try to regain the air you lost. You place your hand on the doorknob when a high pitch ringing and static hit your ears. Freezing in place you try to pinpoint where the noise is coming from. Something (or someone) has materialized behind you with a familiar voice booming through the hall -

"Ahhh a new resident. Apologies I wasn't available for the initial introductions. The name’s Alastor, quite the pleasure!"

In turning abruptly to face the demon you not so gracefully fall against your door. Jesus H Christ – Get your shit together!

"No need to be so jumpy here my dear. This hotel is protected QUITE well if I do say so myself. You don't have to worry about any dangerous sinners here." There’s that unhinged smile. It registers that this is the same charming Overlord who tried to stare into your soul from the last meeting. Ironic how such ominous creature is trying to convince you of safety.

Does he recognize me? He has such a way of looking right into my --- “Ah yes...sorry! Bad habit from being in the streets for so long. Nice to meet you, Alastor. I'm [Y/N]. Are you also here for redemption?" You already knew the answer but best to play stupid. No use in stirring suspicion less than a day into your stay.

"Oh my no. I'm just here for my own amusement and to help Charlie as needed." He hummed shifting his (is that a microphone?) cane from one hand to the other. The static continued in your ears as his half-lidded eyes studied your face. You were far from intimidated, but it was clear he was hiding more power than you initially thought.

"Well, that's very kind of you and it has been such a delight, but it is getting late. I will see you around Mr. Alastor." The sooner this transaction is over, the better. His eyes were starting to bore into you as if he was trying to find any possible flaw he could prey on.

He breaks his gaze to lean into your ear, lips practically grazing your skin. His ever so subtle cologne floods your senses, making little butterflies form in your stomach. Of course such a devious man would be so enticing. Trying not to flinch, you hold your ground. You feared no one or so you told yourself. Rule #4 Never let your weaknesses show.

“Yes, you will be seeing quite a bit of me my dear. And please....just Alastor……for now." he purred into your ear before melting into a shadow - gone as quickly as he appeared. A cool breeze taking over where his hot breath was.

You finally released the air you didn’t realize you were holding in as the static faded from your ears. Quickly getting inside your room you melt to your knees as your head whirls. What the fuck was that about? Was I ATTRACTED to that? Six years in hell and a DEMON OVERLORD makes me weak? That cannot happen again.

Things may be a lot harder than expected with Alastor making his mark on the hotel, but you’re not going to let him stop you. Rule #1 Never trust another Overlord.

[lis-likes-fics]

Princess II

Pairings: Eddie Munson x rich!Reader Word Count: 18k words Warnings: Slow burn, swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, strangers to best friends to lovers... A/N: This was so much fun to write. It took like....over a year to finish this two-parted but it's done and I love them so much. They're literally idiots. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Thank you! (And a special thanks to my beta reader, you're amazing!)

The months pass smoothly, and soon you've been incorporated into aspects of Eddie's life that you've dreamt of for years.

It started with you ditching the cheerleading squad at lunch to go sit with Eddie and his friends. They were so sweet to you, if not a little flirty. Dustin was always eager to see you at lunch, showing off his intelligence or quick-wit any chance he got. He was all smiles, treating you like his cool aunt who got him just about anything he asked for because you liked to spoil him.

Mike was also excited, but he was also a little more open to accepting gifts and things from you. But he was the middle child in his family, so you kind of expected it.

Gareth, Fred, and Jeff all had similar reactions. Though Fred was more skeptical of having a girl like you in the group, you were easy to warm up to. Gareth and Fred constantly flirted with you, but you suspect they did it more for Eddie's annoyance than yours. You warmed up to them.

But Eddie.

The first day you went to sit with them, he'd made one of his buddies get up and move so you could sit next to him. It was a complete change in fondness, like his comfortability to you had skyrocketed to the other end of his kindness.

He included you in every chat, asked questions that weren't awkward but let him and the group get to know you. You really felt comfortable there, like one of them. You expected to feel a little off, but you didn't. They were so kind.

Everyone sneered for a while. The first couple of days were full of glares and snickers from those of other tables. But the longer you sat there, the less people cared. Whatever. You could do what you want, you're the princess. Eddie's comments on how people pick on him and his friends dwindled, though it never fully disappeared.

The squad wasn't so happy, not that you cared. They talked about it to your face and behind your back. It always got back to you of course, Chrissy kept you updated.

You actually managed to pull Chrissy a couple of times to sit with you and Eddie. She enjoyed it just as much as you.

Soon you started joining them during their campaigns. You just sat out and watched at first, serving as their cheerleader, until Eddie pulled you in by your waist, sat you down next to him like you always do now, and let you join in as any character of your choosing. You were an orc named Bill.

The longer you were friends with Eddie, the closer you got, and you loved every second. You went from sitting at his lunch table to playing campaigns with him to regularly going to his house (to the point where you could walk in and Wayne would wave and point down the hall where Eddie sat in his room) to spending just about every day glued to his side, his inseparable friend.

Eddie had always wanted a friend like that, though he'd never admit it, adamant on maintaining his reputation as a freakish outsider who didn't need anyone, who adopted all the other losers into his band of rejects.

He'd always wanted someone who loved spending that much time with him. He's way more happy than he'd like to admit that you haven't gotten tired of him yet.

Spring break comes and goes. You spend the whole of it with Eddie, except for the one day your parents decided to take you to one of the charity events in town. You spent the whole of it with Chrissy in a pretty dress that Eddie said he liked—considering she was in the same class as you and your parents were close friends.

You learned a lot of things over the time you spent as Eddie's friend.

You learned that every time he's asked what his favorite color is, he says black or red just to be edgy when, really, it's baby blue.

You learned that he loves pizza, he could finish an entire pie by himself in under ten minutes. Then he'd smile at you with his face covered in pizza sauce and you'd feel like you were going to puke, you're so in love.

He claims to be ambidextrous, but you've seen his left-handed penmanship and there's nothing ambidextrous about it. He likes loud, thundering music, but you've seen him turn into a softy from the slow, quiet kinds you never thought he'd be into. He lifts sometimes, revealing to you how lean he actually was when you walked in on him shirtless in his room once with weights in his hands.

You'd left the room to recuperate. He'd teased you about it for weeks.

He's terrible at math but he's a decent writer, he's a nice singer—and you melt every time you hear him sing, no matter the genre—he can draw, he can read three different books in one week, he cannot cook, but he can boil the hell out of some water. Wayne was very happy when you showed up in Eddie's life and started cooking for them.

You watched him learn the entirety of Metallica's new song, Master of Puppets, in under a month.

Choosing to become Eddie's friend was a terrible decision in only one way: every single day, he gives you more and more reason to fall deeper in love with him. Your heart is so full, you think you'll die.

You don't know if Eddie knowing that you like him is better or worse. On one hand, he knows he definitely has the option if he really wants it. On the other, he doesn't know just how much you have fallen and him being him tears you apart from the inside out.

But if this is the closest you'll get to him, you'll gladly burn inside just to get the chance to hold his hand.

~

After pulling up in front of your house, Eddie opens your door like a gentleman so you can make him study for a test he had that you knew he wouldn't do otherwise. He slung your bag over one shoulder, grabbing his own to do on the other side.

"Wait!" you tell him as he's slamming the door. You rush inside, smiling wide as you disappear into the house. Eddie follows you, taking his sweet time about it. You're already running down the stairs as he reaches the door after finally walking the length of your huge driveway.

You come out with your hands behind your back, smiling too big for your face as you look at him. He raises a brow, dropping both your backpacks inside by the door and leaning to the side. His knee pops out, making him look as sassy as he probably feels.

"Another gift?" he asks, almost exasperated as he recognizes that sticky sweet smile on your face. He loves it but the amount of gifts you shower him with is insane sometimes.

"Are you trying to buy my love or something?" he teases. "Is this a bribe, Princess?" He lifts his brow ridiculously high and lowers his voice ridiculously low, as if talking in secret.

You roll your eyes at his theatrics. "Don't be ridiculous," you shake your head. "It's a gift."

He shrugs a shoulder. "Same difference."

You scoff. "Shut up and close your eyes." He makes a teasing snort but does as he's told. You bite the very tip of your lip. "Hold out your hands." He does it.

You pull the long, yellow envelope from behind your back, tied with a thin white ribbon to make the most exaggerated bow he'd ever see. You watch his brows change at the feeling of the paper in his hands, curiosity leaking out.

"Now open."

He does. Looking down at the envelope, he raises a brow and stares at it, as though it would open on command. He fingers the glued down flap of the letter and glances at you with hesitant eyes. "What is this?"

He pulls the glue free and begins to pull out two, just as long, slips of laminated paper. Looking up at you, he can see how bubbly you were with the excitement to show him your latest gifts. Or "bribes", as he liked to call them—all out of good fun!... you think.

The words pour from your lips. "Two backstage tickets to Metallica next week!" You bring it back once the biggest part of the reveal was said. "They're on tour, and I know you like them."

He stares at you with wide eyes, but he doesn't smile. You wait for his grateful reply for a while before what you are met with is a loud, "What?"

Your excitement turns to shivering fear as you stare, worried. "Is it the wrong band?" Suddenly, all the worst scenarios you worried about come to mind. "Shit, did I mess up?" You start mumbling to yourself. "I know I checked and then double checked. Maybe the tickets are wrong. Fuck, what did I do—?"

He stops you with his heavy hands on your shoulders, weighing you down but also providing a lot of comforting warmth as he looks you in the eye with the same level of intensity. "You got me V.I.P. tickets to see Metallica perform?"

"In Indianapolis, yes."

He stares at you a moment longer before he's shoving you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you flush against his body. The hug is warm and enveloping and much too close for friendship, and you hug him back just as closely, almost feeling as though you could cry of how wonderful it felt to have his scent all around you, his arms around your waist, his crazy hair tickling your face and shoulders.

After a beat too long, he's hoisting you off your feet and spinning you in a circle that has your body flying for a moment. He sets you down as you're both giggling, and when he pulls back to see you, his lips are set in the biggest smile you have ever seen. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you stare wide-eyed at him, and whatever was left slips out when his thumbs smooth circles along your sides as his hands stay set on your waist.

"You are fucking amazing," he says too fondly.

You gaze warmly at him, feeling your heart skipping too many beats. You need to go to the hospital.

Then his whole demeanor changes once more as his face drops into near frustration. "And extravagant," he adds suddenly. "Why the fuck did you get these for me?"

You honestly expected his hands to leave you by now, but they stayed at your sides with the envelope held between his fingers. You set your hands on his arms, shrugging as you smile earnestly.

"For us," you say, hoping not to scare him away with that. "Because I wanted to do something special for you. You deserve it."

Eddie doesn't know what he's done to deserve something as special as this, but he just smiles down at it with the joy of a little boy getting a dog he's been wanting all his life for his birthday. You hear him curse under his breath.

"I gotta go tell Wayne," he beams. He scoops you into his arms again, squeezing tighter this time as he laughs happily, his elation infecting you. He sets you down, looking over your face. He's moving and speaking faster than you think he thinks he is, but it just makes you smile some more.

"Ah, I fuckin' love you. I'll see you later!" He tears away from you, turning around and sprinting toward his van to drive haphazardly down the road to get back to his uncle. He's waving at you through the window as he pulls away.

Meanwhile, you stand at the door with wide eyes and stilled breath, frozen on the porch. His words replay in your head like a mantra, like a prayer that you've been waiting for as you smile a little.

"He loves me," you sigh. Then you shake your head, hoping not to be as delusional as you feel. "Just a figure of speech..." you chew your lip, "probably..." you furrow your brows, "most likely."

You sigh as you shake and bow your head. "I'm talking to myself again."

You turn on your heel and set a course down the sidewalk, walking a few houses down with fast feet and an even quicker beating heart. Four doors down, you come up the path to Chrissy's house and start repeatedly pounding on the door, because it was more dramatic than letting yourself in.

You hear her as she approaches the door because she yells, "Y/N, I'm coming!"

The door opens and Chrissy stands on the other side with a raised brow and a sigh. She sees you standing there with your conflicted look as she furrows her brow. "What happened?"

You walk past her, venturing into the house and walking right up the stairs as she follows behind you, unphased as she closes the door. "I gave the tickets to Eddie."

"And?" she asks as she follows you up the stairs.

"He loved them," you say over your shoulder, shrugging. "He was, like, super excited."

She smiles wide, her whole face lights up. "That's great!"

You get to the top of the stairs on your way to her room, stopping at one of the doors prior and knocking gently before pushing it open. "Hi, Carter."

The boy looks at you and smiles wide, waving his hand as he returns his greeting. You smile back and close the door, instantly falling back into your contemplation as you burst into Chrissy's room and plopped down at the edge of her bed.

"So," she prompts. "Is it a date?"

You furrow your brow, granting her a confused look. "What? No, don't be ridiculous."

She rolls her eyes, "Right..."

"But he..." you trail off, chewing on your lower lip as you keep thinking to yourself, replaying the moment over and over and over again with the over-analysis of a skilled theorist.

"What?" she asks, urging you to finally spit it out.

"He, like," you look at her and release your lip in favor of speaking as you try and fail not to smile at the memory—as though it was a cherished thing that had been living in your brain for years. She follows the loose narration your hands give as you speak. "He picked me up and spun me around and said something about telling his uncle, and then..."

You hesitate to say it, hiding your face a little behind your hands. Chrissy sighs heavily, playfully impatient with your slowly developing, weird relationship with Eddie. "What? What did he do?"

You blush and smile too wide. Your face hurts. "He said 'I fuckin' love you', and then drove off." You're suddenly really giddy. "He said he fuckin' loves me!" You beam at Chrissy before quickly backtracking. "I know it was probably just a figure of speech or something, right? Like, he doesn't actually love me, he was just super happy. Heat of the moment. Right?"

This left your mouth as a word vomit and, honestly, Chrissy just watched you with a wide range of emotions crossing her face. Confusion, joy, passive frustration, hints of awaiting sarcasm...

She shrugs a shoulder, sitting next to you on the bed and attempting to soothe your scorching nerves. "I mean, probably, but you spend so much time together... who knows," she smiled wide suddenly, "maybe he's coming around."

Your grin is hopeful, your eyes glisten as you smile at her and she smiles wider and chuckles at the look. "You think so?"

"Sure!" she exclaims, eager to get you to the optimistic side of things.

"Maybe you're right," you nod to assure yourself, hoping that saying it out loud will bring it into existence. "Maybe you're right." You breathe in and out and sit up straight, nodding once more before you turn your gaze to Chrissy again. You take her hands in yours and squeeze gently. "The concert's next week, I need you to help me get ready."

"Absolutely," she beams. "You couldn't pay me not to help."

You wrap your arms around her neck and pull her into a bone-crushing hug. Chrissy, a native to your affection, takes it with an excited laugh and no acknowledgement to your strength.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Of course," she smiles, before pulling out of your arms and waving a playfully scolding finger at your face. "But you owe me."

You shrug. "I always do." You think for a moment. "We'll get lunch and go to the mall. Check out that store you like. An outfit of your choice, my treat."

"Deal," she said immediately. Rolling her eyes and smiling, she sighs dreamily. "I love leeching off rich people."

You roll your own eyes, not as dreamily. "You're also rich, Chris."

She shrugs, letting her shoulders sag lazily at her sides like a ragdoll. "I know, but you're my bitch."

You gasp dramatically. "Christina Elizabeth Cunningham! You watch your language."

She snorts. "Bitch, please."

You shove her back onto the bed and start for her kitchen. You're hungry and you're sure she hasn't eaten yet...

~

You close your locker with a snap. As you look up, you notice Tommy H on the other side, staring you down with an unimpressed look upon his face. You can see the rest of his group surrounding his locker to peer into the conversation, looking like a flock of pigeons—all bulgy eyes and flicking heads.

You sigh internally and turn to him, smiling as sweetly as you always do. "Hey, Tommy." You check your watch quickly.

"Hi," he says back, feeling slick.

You move your bag from your side to place your science books in, glancing at him as you do it. "Is there something I can help you with? I gotta get to class."

He leans his shoulder against the wall, crossing one leg over the other and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his lettermen. He shrugs his shoulders heavily, and your eyes fall on his Class of '85 patch—where it should now read '86 after an unfortunate grade point average in his last, slacked off year.

"You're hanging out with Munson now?" He raises a brow.

You sling your bag back over your shoulder. "Yeah?" You raised your brow, failing to see his point. "Is that supposed to be a problem or something?"

"I mean..." he trails off, laughing lightly like it's obvious. You just stare at him, almost looking clueless as he stumbles over his words to try and come up with an argument. He shrugs, "It's Munson."

You make a face. He scoffs.

"I mean, you seriously blew off a game for him?"

Oh. That makes more sense.

You've been hanging out with Eddie for months, and they haven't commented that much because you could do whatever you wanted because you... well, you're you.

But you did kiss the game last night. It wasn't a really serious one—at least, you don't think it was—and Eddie had a huge campaign he practically begged you to go to, and you accepted because you loved his campaigns way more than a stupid game (that, and the fact that you're head over heels in love with him). You told Chrissy, she covered for you.

You shrug. "We lost the game."

He scrambled for a comeback. "Yeah? Well, maybe we wouldn't have if you had been there. It's called moral support sweetheart."

You straighten your back and try not to make a face, continuing to remain friendly as you close your eyes. "First of all, don't call me that." He shrugs. "Second, there will be more games and more hangouts and whatever else. I'm hanging out with Eddie Munson, so what? He's my friend."

He scowls. "He's Eddie Munson."

You make a face, confusion raising your brow and lip. You pause, waiting for a follow-up. "You say that like it's supposed to prove a point."

Tommy scoffs. "Okay, how about this?" He towers over you, his elbow propped high up on your locker in an attempt to intimidate you. His red-freckled face is stern. "He's a freak."

He nearly spits the word in your face, and he smirks when he does it.

You tilt your head and smile.

"How about this..." You clear your throat and brush imaginary lint from his lettermen. "If you call Eddie a freak one more time," you look up at his face again, smiling a little sweeter and speaking a little slower, "I will personally see to it that my parents stop inviting yours to our parties."

His face pales.

"You'll be moved to our blacklist. From there, people will stop respecting you. And, by then, you'll be scrambling to get back in with us, and you'll look desperate doing it." Your eyes darken but your smile is perfectly intact as you watch his fear overcome him.

"I'll work you so far to the bottom that even the name��Munson will hold less disdain in this town than Hagan." Your smile drops. You look cold.

"Do I make myself clear?"

He swallows thickly, finding his voice again after cracking on his first attempt. "Yeah." He clears his throat. "Yes."

"Great!" You clap once as you smile brightly once more. The warning bell cracks loudly, echoing through the halls with a shrill screech. Both you and the bell startle him as he flinches, sighing heavily as you pat your shoulder twice. "Thank you. Don't be late for class."

He hesitates, shaking his head and walking away to rejoin his posse pretending to not have been listening in to the conversation. "Yeah," he mumbles as you watch him leave.

"That was scary."

You turn and smile wide when you see Eddie, leaning on the lockers with an impressed look. "I can be very scary," you joke.

"Tell me about it." He rolls his eyes, and you lightly smack his shoulder at the insinuation. You both start walking down the hall to your shared science class. "What was that about?"

You glance over your shoulder to where Tommy and his friends are walking away, throwing half-hearted scowls at Eddie over their shoulders.

"Oh," you say, smiling to yourself almost maliciously. You shock Eddie for a moment with the brief look. "Just a little... nudge in the right direction."

His whole demeanor changes as he turns his body to face you, walking still as his feet side step to keep up with you. "Did you just threaten Tommy H for me?"

"'Course," you smile. "We're friends, Eddie, and I protect my friends... even if that means destroying social lives forever."

He sighs a laugh. "Startin' to think you like destroying social lives."

You both walk into class together just as the bell rings, moving to your seats as you lean in and whisper dramatically. "Only when they're assholes."

He gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls. "Has her majesty just spoiled her tongue with the dirty language of the peasants?" he exclaims quietly in his best posh, British accent.

"I'm afraid she has," you play along in an accent of your own, though it's not as perfect as his. He's got an impeccable accent. "It can be quite hard to keep one's tongue guarded when met with the incompetence of the lower class, or even that of the upper."

He snorted, "Then, forgive me, my liege. I shall do my best to keep you away from the clutches of the incompetent."

You both laugh quietly amongst yourselves.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he snorts again, shaking his head with a seeking shudder.

You wink at him. "Never get on my bad side."

You direct your attention to the teacher. Eddie watches the side of your face and laughs again, shaking his head and readjusting after spending too much time taking in the sight of the side of your face.

You're pretty. He hopes he never gets on your bad side.

~

With Chrissy out with Jason, you have no one to calm your nerves as the time for Eddie to come pick you up grows closer. You've already dressed in the clothes you both picked out, she'd done your makeup before she had to leave, and you're walking around your room in your heels as you await his arrival.

You check yourself in the mirror one last time before the sound of your doorbell echoes through the house. You grab your stuff faster than you've ever done anything in your life, rushing down the stairs dangerously fast in your heels and throwing the front door open before your father's hand can even brush the handle.

Upon seeing you answer, he decides to walk away. Whatever you want...

You open the door and smile wide at Eddie, ignoring how nervous you feel at the sight of yourself. You feel sort of...out of place. This isn't your vibe but you are hoping he likes it anyway.

Eddie's eyes bulge and his mouth drops open.

He takes you in. Dressed head to toe in leather, he eyes your little red skirt and your black bustier top decorated with red roses. It looks so tight, he wonders how you're still able to breathe. You've got a garter belt wrapped tightly around your thigh, just peeking out from under your skirt, in more black leather. In knee high platforms, you've gone up a couple more inches in height. Even your makeup, with sharp wings, a tiny eyeliner heart on the apple of your cheek, and red lipstick a dark shade of blood.

Eddie feels like he just fell fifty feet and smacked his face on concrete, knocking all the air from his lungs and making it impossible to breathe. You are drop dead gorgeous.

"Wow."

You don't take it as well as he expected, nerves sinking in as you look over yourself quickly, wiping your hands down the skirt. "Too much?"

He shakes his head. "You look..." he trails off, lost in thought before shaking his head to bring himself back, "great. Really great."

You take it for what it is and smile. "Thanks," you blush. "Chrissy helped. You don't look half bad yourself."

And you mean it. He's in nearly as much leather as you. With black leather pants that cling to his body like chains, lacing running up the sides that seem to make them even tighter, he looks like a rockstar in his old Metallica muscle tee (the one where the logo is so faded, you can hardly see it).

You're not surprised to see his leather jacket and his battle vest, nor are you to see him wearing his own eyeliner, an extra edge you've seen during his concerts at the Hideout—though yours is admittedly done better. His hair is frizzier than ever, a look you tried to copy as well as you could but believe you fell short on (Eddie thinks your aces).

Eddie shakes his head. "Wow," he mumbles again, more breathless this time.

"You said that already."

"My bad," he says, not meaning it.

You shake your head and smile sweetly. "No, it's nice."

After staring again for too long, he clears his throat and smiles again, returning to his stupid antics that make you laugh constantly, like you've gone insane.

"You ready to go?" he asks.

"Yeah." You turn and yell into the house, cupping your hands around your mouth as you do it. "Bye, Daddy! Bye, Mom!"

Your mother's voice calls back, "Be back by sundown."

"What your mother said," says your father.

You close the door and walk with Eddie. "Uhm," he says. "We will not be back by sundown."

"It doesn't matter," your shrug. "They say it more as a courtesy. They'll forget I'm even gone."

"Ah," he mutters, though you don't seem too fazed by it. Almost like this is the norm for you. Maybe it is...

He takes you to his van, opening your door like a gentleman and loading you in. He hops into his own seat, slamming his door extra hard because it's been pretty stubborn lately.

As soon as he starts the engine, his music blares through the speakers, "Holy Diver" by Dio. You flinch, shocked by the sound but not upset. He immediately goes to turn it down, and once he's dialed it one way, you dial it the other.

Eddie looks over at you, your head already banging to the music as you rock enthusiastically in your seat. He stares at you, his parted lips curling in a grin. He thinks you're amazing.

"Are we going?" you ask half-jokingly when you catch him staring, speaking so loud you nearly blow your vocal chords trying speak over the music. You poke his side.

He over-exaggerates, recoiling in on himself and flailing back against his window like he'd been shot. You roll your eyes. And he lays there for a while, really dragging it out until you lightly smack his shoulder. The music blares.

"Eddie!"

"Ow– Hey!" he exclaims, even though you barely touched him.

You shake your head. "Drive."

"Okay, bossy," he says. He turns the music down just a bit and starts down the road. It's still loud, and your parents might get a complaint, but it's unlikely because the neighbors would be too afraid of offending them.

He nods lightly to the music, turning it down another smudge to ask, "You hungry?" He looks at you with his big doe eyes. He's going to give you a hernia.

"Not much," you shrug. "You?"

He also shrugs, tapping the fingers of his left hand on the wheel. He leans on his right arm rest, glancing over at you. "I'm always down for food," he winks. "But we could probably wait 'til we get there."

"If you wanna eat, we can."

He shakes his head. "Nag, we'll have a shit ton of free time. We'll be, like," he checks the time, "three hours early."

You snort. He's usually three hours late.

"Okay," you nod. You turn to him, smiling. "Oh, we could check out this new place my parent's friend's daughter told me about."

He laughs lightly, "Is she not your friend?"

You shrug a shoulder. As far as your friendships go, you recognize you don't really have many. Chrissy is the love of your life, as you tell her constantly, but she's the only person you've held close to your heart for years.

But your parents are rich. Their friends' kids are supposed to be your friends, but you've never acclimated to that thinking.

"Eh," you mumble. "We don't really consider ourselves friends, we just know each other." Her parents are also rich, and she's within the same category as you.

He hums. "Yeah, we can check it out." He sets his hand closer to yours, his pinky brushing yours. To avoid seeming too intimate, not wanting to complicate the friendship you've created, he wraps his pinky with yours and shakes it around.

Not intimate, just friendly.

"Is it fancy?"

You shake your head. "Not really." I squeeze his finger, grabbing his hand in both yours and forming his to lace your fingers together. "My parents and their rich friends spoil me with expensive stuff all the time, so I like the cheaper stuff a little more."

You purse your lips, looking away from your hands to look at his face. "But I don't like telling people that because I feel like I sound bratty."

He shakes his head. "Nah, you're not bratty." He lets go of your hand and lightly nudges the side of your face with his palm. You snort, swatting his hand away. "You're just bossy."

"Shut up," you laugh.

His face lights up at the proof of him being right. "See?" he laughs. "You're bossy. You're so bossy!"

You roll your eyes at him, "If you weren't driving, I'd hit you."

His eyes widen. "You're violent," he accuses. "You're violent now!"

You groan loudly, turning away from him with the most exaggeration you can manage. He laughs loudly. It's a ridiculous guffaw, and you feel the van swerve a little. You're so used to his driving by now, though, that it doesn't faze you.

When his laughter dies down and you're urge to burst into your own fit of giggles eases with it, he sighs dramatically to announce the end of his joke. "So," he hums, "if I gave you the choice to go someplace fancy with the best steak in town or a McDonald's," he leans toward you, tearing his eyes from the road at a stoplight to look at you, "what are you picking?"

You let a slow smile spread across your lips as you look at his stupid face with his stupid eyes and his stupid nose, and his stupid lips. You chuckle lightly, taking him in some more. "Well, you can't beat those nuggets."

He laughs again, still just as loud and dramatic as the first one. You love it, and you can't help but to laugh with him this time.

"No, you can't." He smiles at you, staring at your face a little longer than he probably should.

Eddie jumps when a loud honk interrupts his examination. Turning to the light, he sees that it is a very bright green. "Shit," he curses under his breath as he steps on the gas.

The van jolts, but your gaze lingered on him too long to notice. A slip of anxiety creeps up on you as a thought flashes behind your eyes. You hook your finger through one of the holes in your fishnets. You lean on your armrest. "Was that your way of asking me out, or am I dreaming?" You say it with enough amusement coloring your voice that it gives you the option to back out of it as a joke as soon as it is required.

And it was required.

"Fast asleep, Princess," he smiles, chuckling lightly as his eyes stay on the road in front of him. You ignore the stutter in your heart, covering your disappointment with a chuckle of your own and roll your eyes.

"Playing hard to get, huh?" you joke, trying not to be too sad about his lack of falling in love with you. You've still got him, even if you don't have him in your arms.

Eddie's fingers reach for the dashboard as he turns up the radio, turning the heavy rock up louder and louder. "What?" he shouts over the music, drowning your giggles in the song (though he can still hear them because he's listening very specifically for them). "I can't hear you over the music. What did you say?"

You smack his shoulder, giddy with his jokes. "Asshole!" you exclaim, crossing your arms in a faux pout. You both laugh out loud, big and dramatic and happy to be there. And as he turns down the radio before he blows your precious eardrums, he finds himself oddly tender with the sound of your joy. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel as he has to breathe a little more to steady his traitor of a heart.

~

You're nearly late, despite arriving there a whole hour early. Eddie had found a McDonald's and got so caught up in taking you that you both lost the time. You were in the middle of wiping Sweet N Sour sauce off his face when you realized it on the hands of your watch.

You almost got pulled over twice.

But you get there just as the lights are dimming. It's a huge opener—guitars and drums and screaming vocals, fans cheering and crying, headbanging and jumping and a couple of already too-drunk patrons puking in the back.

Eddie is ecstatic. He loves every part of it—the screaming, the crying, the puking. He takes it all in stride and stands really close to you as he does it.

He keeps looking at your face. Through the haze of flashing lights and so much excitement his heart might stop, he keeps looking at your face. You're really pretty, dressed in his style, smiling like a maniac, dancing to his music.

He was so scared you would hate it, this scene, his scene. He was scared you were going to show up and stand uncomfortably, smile in that people-pleasing way and bear through it until it was over.

But you don't.

You're beautiful. You glow under the lights, you're wonderful as you dance and sway and headbang to hell.

You keep smiling at him. You keep grabbing his hands and jumping to the beat of the music, and he jumps with you and he holds your hands. He can't help but adore you.

Part of him hopes it doesn't stick. He's not sure he could handle his heart beating this fast.

By the time the concert is over, you're both sweaty and hyped and tired but so happy. You both flash your VIP passes—you more confidently than him—and rush backstage with all the other VIPs.

He's buzzing with excitement as his sweaty hand shakes that of each member of the band. He does it wide-eyed, gleaming and entirely unbelieving. If his other hand was gripping yours, he'd think this was a dream.

A really freaky, amazing dream.

You both get shirts, personal autographs, and a lifelong experience that you load into his van with buzzing and heavy limbs. He helps you in, closing your door like a gentleman, and you slump against your seat.

Eddie gets in, slamming his door shut because it's a little stubborn. He starts the engine and turns the radio down all the way to a gentle background hum.

He doesn't turn his eyes toward you until he's pulled out of the insanity that is leaving the parking lot. When he glances over at you, you're asleep.

He'd wanted to thank you.

You're really pretty like this: eyes delicately closed, lips slightly parted. Granted, you're always pretty.

He has to look away before his chest starts hurting again.

Fuck.

He looks away from you quickly, gripping the wheel to get a handle on himself. He didn't mean to do this, to like you. Being friends was one thing, becoming best friends was another...

But actually starting to like you...

He isn't supposed to. You don't live in his world. He doesn't live in yours. More than that...

Actually, he's not sure. He just knows that... he wasn't supposed to begin liking you. His feelings for you were supposed to remain platonic.

But now he's not so sure.

There are a couple things he's sure of though.

You're beautiful, dressed like a metalhead or a cheerleader, you're beautiful. And he adores you, inside and out. And he wants you to know that.

~

"Hey, Princess."

You turn, giving Eddie a wide smile as he walks up to your locker. He's got his hand behind his back in an obvious, and you laugh at that as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. "Hi, Eddie."

He leans on your locker, nervous and proud at the same time as he smiles. His hair is freshly washed—still damp and curly with conditioner. It'll be fully frizzed by the end of the day, you know it.

"I got you something. Well, I made you something," he says. "Close your eyes." You do as you're told, smiling as you do. "Give me your hand."

You're almost giddy as you lift it, presenting it to him. He sets something in your palm. It's light, your brows furrow.

"Okay, open."

You do, looking at your palm. Your smile falls a little as you look at it. A bracelet made with black leather, braided together with a few little silver beads woven in. You look at the silver charm. A skull with a crown on it.

He made this himself.

"Eddie..." You swallow thickly, blinking quickly so you aren't crying your mascara off. People don't do things like this for you—no one but Chrissy.

"Do you hate it?" There's an anxiety there that kick-starts your heart. He braces himself for a 'yes' before you have to remind him that you're you, and you're deeply in love with him.

"I love it," you urge him, using your best smile to convince him of that fact. "It's beautiful."

Hope sparks in his eyes. He smiles a bit. "Really?"

"Yeah!" you promise. "I'll wear it forever."

You shove it in his hand, and he immediately understands your request without you even having to ask. You hold out your wrist as he fastens the bracelet on. It's a perfect fit.

You coo as you look at it. "I really love this, Eddie..." Then suddenly, "Oh! This reminds me. I got this for you–"

"No, no," he stops you, holding out a hand as you reach into your locker. "This was a gift. I'm gifting this to you."

You slump slightly, your smile falling into a confused frown as you sigh. "But..." you fiddle with the charm, "I wanna pay you back."

He shakes his head, not unkindly. "No need. I technically owe you a lot, I'm sure those tickets were expensive as hell."

You're feeling a little...nervous. No one refuses gifts from you, ever—except Chrissy, when they're really excessive. But this isn't. It's just an Iron Maiden vinyl record, one of those limited addition ones you have to really look for.

Your parents had bought it a while back at an auction because a lot of people were bidding on it. But it just sits in a case in the living room collecting dust—they don't listen to that kind of music. They only got it because a lot of people wanted it.

Eddie would like it. He'd appreciate it...

"But–"

"No buts," he says, his tone final. "Let me do this for you."

You pull your hand away from your locker, sighing. You nod slowly, offering a weak smile. "Okay..."

This isn't the last time that happens. Through the next few weeks, Eddie keeps declining your gifts. You try to give him the record, but before you can even get the words "I got you something" past your lips, he's telling you that you don't need to get him anything and giving you his own gift instead.

You feel like you've done something wrong.

He's giving you a lot of gifts. It's becoming harder and harder to accept them, but you couldn't stand refusing one of the presents he's made specially or used hard-earned money on for you. You couldn't do that to him, it would break his heart. But...

It's a lot of gifts. And he isn't even letting you repay the favor to make it even.

There's a problem. You just don't know what. So you do the only thing you can do.

You ask Chrissy.

You walk up the steps to Chrissy's house, pushing the door open and heading straight up the stairs.

"Hello, Y/N," Chrissy's father calls, not lifting his eyes from his newspaper.

"Hi, Mr. Cunningham." You go down the hall, barging through Chrissy's door and closing it tightly behind you. She steps out of her closet, her brows furrowed as she looks at you. Though she's unsurprised.

She does this to you almost as often as you do to her, though you have admittedly more drama than her. You're more radioactive than she is.

"We have a crisis." You plop down on her bed.

She leans on the frame of her closet door, crossing her arms over her chest. "What crisis?"

You lay down, covering your face with your hands and, in doing so, muffling your words. "I think Eddie's mad at me."

She understands you perfectly. "Why?" she asks as she walks over and sets her hands on your thighs, leaning over you. You look at her. "What happened?"

"He's not taking any of my gifts anymore!" You sit up on your hands, but she doesn't move. "I'm trying to give him stuff 'cause he keeps getting me stuff. I mean, whenever I'm mad at my parents, and they try to bribe me to get over it, I just don't accept their gifts."

She shrugs. "Okay," she thinks. She moves off of you, walking back to her closet. "But why would he give you things if he was mad at you?" She disappears inside. "Besides, what have you done?"

You stand, following her in. She's sifting through her wardrobe, looking for her outfit for tomorrow. She does it every day, usually with your help.

"I don't know!" you sigh, looking through her choice of skirts. "That's why I'm worried. I don't know what I've done, and guys are weird."

She holds up two skirts to show you: one short and flowy pale blue and one bright pink two sizes too small. You hum, picking the blue. The pink doesn't suit her skin anyway.

"Or maybe," you continue, "maybe he thinks I'm mad at him, and that's why he keeps giving me stuff."

She shakes her head. "I think you're reading too much into this, babe."

Your head shake is far more intense than hers. "I am reading perfectly into this. I show my love by buying people things, I gift give! I'm basically Santa as a teenage girl. Here." You pass her a white shirt, long sleeved and pretty.

She takes it. "Thanks." Then she hums. "Interesting analogy."

You shrug, sitting on the little stool in her closet with a sigh. "I mean, how would Santa feel if kids just...stopped taking his gifts and started giving him a whole bunch of them?"

Probably special, Chrissy thinks.

"He'd be frantic!"

Chrissy can't help but giggle lightly at that. She loves you, but you're a little ridiculous sometimes. She shakes her head and turns to you and picks up two pairs of shoes. She holds them up as she kneels in front of you, showing them off. "Have you tried talking to him?"

You choose the white sneakers over the black flats. "I don't want to say something bad and mess this up." You rest your chin in your hand. "We were doing so well."

She sighs, setting both pairs down. "I'm sure it's not as bad as you think."

You sigh. "You're right." And then you stand. "It's worse."

She stands and places her hands on your shoulders, making you sit again. "Okay, maybe you're exaggerating this a little bit."

Your shoulders slump. "Am I?"

"Yes." She laughs lightly to take the weight off it. She breathes in slowly. "Take a breath. Calm down."

She takes your head and takes you back into her bedroom, making you sit on the bed. She sits across from her, her legs crossed as she sways some hair behind her ear. She takes your hands.

"Eddie is not rich, he doesn't have a lot of money like your family," she begins to explain. "People who are not rich don't always enjoy accepting gifts because it makes them feel like they're inconveniencing you."

Your brows pull together, and you frown. "He's not an inconvenience."

"I know," she smiles. It looks beautiful on her. "He's already gotten so much stuff from you, plus those tickets? I'm not surprised he's trying to pay you back. He's not going to let you give him anything else until he feels like he has."

You assume the worst, looking down at your joined hands and sighing. "So that we're even, and he can stop feeling obligated to be friends with me."

"No," she urges. "So he can stop thinking that you might think he's using you for your money." She shrugs, "He probably just feels bad."

You think about her reasoning. Her explanation actually makes way more sense than your own.

"Yeah," she says. "Just talk to him. I'm sure it's just that."

You sigh, covering your face. "This is so weird."

She takes your wrists, pulling them away. Her voice takes on an annoyed tone. You can practically hear her eye rolls. "Because most of the people who are 'friends' with you are only friends because you buy them nice things."

You nod. "Yeah."

"Except for me, of course," she smiles, almost proudly.

You chuckle. "Except for you."

She sighs, letting go of you and shoving you to stand. "Go talk to Eddie."

You take a breath. "Okay..." You give her your best smile. "Thanks, Chris. You're the best." You kiss her cheek on the way out as you turn toward the door.

"I know," she says matter-of-factly. "Love you."

You open her door, peering your head in. You kiss at her. "Love you back."

She begins to stand. "Also," she looks back at you, tilting her head, "tell your bitch mom to stop shrinking your clothes so she can loosen them. She's an ugly old hag–"

"Y/N!"

"–and you're beautiful and perfect, and I love you. I'm serious, I'll beat her ass."

"Leave!" She closes the door in your face, but you know she's laughing on the other side, grateful for your comments.

~

Eddie is sitting on the porch with his acoustic when you drive up. The engine halts when you pull out your key, standing and closing the door behind you. He likes your car. It's sleek and beautiful. Very expensive because your parents bought it for you when you first got your license.

He keeps strumming his guitar as you make your way up the stairs. "Hey, Princess," he greets you.

"Hey," you mutter, the nerves grabbing at your throat as you come to stand next to him. You fidget with your fingers, sitting next to him on the bench.

"Eds, can we talk?"

He hums, still strumming. "About what?" When you don't respond, he looks up at you. He stops, moving his guitar off his lap with furrowed brows.

"Woah," he says, noticing your worried face. "What's wrong?"

You take a moment to think, sighing as you try to figure out what you were going to say. You rehearsed it in the car, thoroughly, and it's all blanking staring at his wide eyes, brown as coffee.

"Are you mad at me?"

He looks confused. "Why would you think that?" He grabs your hand, and you don't know if you're imagining his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"Because you aren't letting me gift you things."

He doesn't do what you expect—though you're not entirely sure what you were expecting. Eddie smiles, a wide thing that splits his face in two. His eyes almost look like they're shining as he looks at you. You don't feel patronized when he does it, either. It's oddly warming.

"You think I'm mad at you because I'm not letting you gift me things?" he clarifies, almost shocked, though he knows he shouldn't be.

So he's not mad at you? That makes you feel a little better...

"Well," you sigh. "When my parents and I argue, they buy me things to make me feel better. I always say no."

He softens, smiling gently and taking your hand between his. "Sweetheart," he says slowly, "I'm not mad at you. I just don't want you to think I only like you for your money, especially after that concert. That's a huge gesture for someone you only started hanging out with two months ago."

You sigh, looking away from his eyes to think. Chrissy was right, he feels guilty for accepting your gifts. This whole thing is new to you. You're so used up from serving everybody else. Now someone is trying to serve you, and you completely mistook it for anger...

"I'm not used to that," you admit.

"To what?"

You shrug, "People not accepting gifts from me... other than Chrissy." You smile a little, but it falls quickly. Sighing, you look back up at him, squeezing his hands just a slight. "Most of my friends are friends because I bought them their prom tickets last year or invited them to a party or something."

Eddie smiles again. He seems to scoot closer to you, both your thighs squishing together and leaving no space between your bodies. He nudges your shoulder and then pushes you away a bit because he's too affectionate. "I don't like you because you have money and buy me nice things." He chuckles lightly. "Actually, the reason I didn't like you in the first place was because you have money and buy people nice things."

You smile a little and Eddie feels like the special-est person on Earth. He knows it's silly and too affectionate but he can't help it. Eddie's crooked finger hooks underneath your chin and lifts it to look right at him. "I like you for you."

It's moments like these when your love for Eddie can't be measured. It's moments like these when your love for Eddie feels more mature than a schoolgirl crush. It's that moment when you're imagining more than parties or prom or dates or celebrations, when your mind is full of thoughts of sitting quietly in the living room or watching a movie at three o'clock in the afternoon because it's a stay-at-home-day or fixing dinner as he wraps his arms around your waist and sets his chin on your shoulder or reading a book while he scratches his head and files taxes at the kitchen table.

You smile fondly, and Eddie thinks you're the strongest whiskey because he gets dizzy at the sight of you.

"Really?" you mumble, your voice soft and sweet.

"Yeah," he nods. "You're awesome, sweetheart."

You love when Eddie calls you 'Princess' in that funny, affectionate way, but when he calls you 'sweetheart; you lose all your senses in the blink of an eye.

"Really?" It's the only thing you can think to say.

"Absolutely."

"Okay..."

Then you get brave—as brave as you can get. Licking your bottom lip, you look down at your lap and smile nervously. To have to gather the courage to look him in the eye as you smile gently at him. "You know how you can repay me for the concert?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "How?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, another breath for courage—"Go to prom with me?"

Eddie's smile falls. "I-"

"You don't have to go as my date. I just don't want to go alone," you say quickly, trying not to trap him or manipulate him or make him think you're trying to do either. "Chrissy's going with Jason, and I don't want to be a third wheel..." You sigh, looking him in the eyes and feeling your heart palpitating.

"Please?"

You're going to kill him one day, he's sure of it. The way his heart kicks at the sight of your pleading eyes is fatal, and he knows it because he can feel it in his chest. He sighs. It's his own fault. He let you be friends, and now he's head over heels...

"...Sure," he agrees. When you beam at him, the largest grin he's ever seen in his life, it's all worth it, his stupidity. "We'll go together."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says. "Just two friends...going to prom."

You'll take that. You would take a million "just two friends" over "we don't talk anymore". You'd do anything for him. "Yeah," you smile. "Thanks, Eds."

It's all worth it to see you smile. "No problem."

~

Eddie's nervous. You can tell in the way he keeps bumping into you. You would dismiss it as just the way the place is crowded, stocked to the brim with sweaty bodies, some already drunk in the first hour and others high.

Eddie's been to parties before, obviously. He's done senior year three times, of course he's been to parties.

But he's not used to being around so many people and not being stared at. Almost no one is looking at him.

"Why are we going to this thing again?" he'd asked as you were getting ready.

You shrugged. "It's pre-prom."

"But there's actual prom."

You smoothed out your lipstick before you turned to him. "Yeah, but actual prom is kinda boring 'cause of the family-friendly rules. Pre-prom is hosted by students with no real adult supervision, so...less boring." You shrugged again, turning away to fix a stray hair. "Besides, I have to make an appearance. Me and Chrissy since we're in the running for Prom Queen. Otherwise, we get no votes."

"People'll vote for you anyway," he smiled.

"I always just want a drink or two."

He laughed a little. "We can just go to my place then." When you shook your head and laughed at him, he did the same. "Why am I going?"

"Because you have to. 'Cause you're my date." You turned quickly, eyes wide and hands out, "My plus one." You think about it for a moment. "My friend-date."

"Your date," he agrees, nodding and laughing and hoping you don't freak out because he called himself your date when you're just going as friends. Just friends.

"Yeah, I'll go with you, Princess." He sighs dramatically so he doesn't sound too wistful.

But now he wishes he'd convinced you to just go to his place and lounge on his couch, watching stupid movies and eating popcorn and then throwing popcorn at the screen when they do something stupid.

He holds your hand. You squeeze it, pulling him further inside with you and comforting him with all you have.

It becomes easier when you find Chrissy. Chrissy is very welcoming and helps you help Eddie settle because she's sweet and you're sweet and he loves you—your sweetness—he loves your sweetness.

When he has a beer in his hand—his only beer tonight, he's decided—and your hand in his other, he's laughing and letting you dance around him. Some people get upset with him when he accidentally bumps into them, and others give him dirty looks for the sake of giving dirty looks, but under the light in your eyes, he doesn't care. He doesn't even notice.

He watches your nose scrunch up in that adorable way that means you're truly happy. He keeps looking at you with the fondest eyes and the gentlest touches and the most wonderful smiles. You can't take it—he's so pretty with his doe eyes and smile lines and long lashes and his big nose and crazy hair and plump lips.

"Quit smiling at me," you giggle, pulling on his hand in yours. "I can't focus when you look at me like that."

"Like what?" he laughs. Then he makes a face, his eyes going wide and his smile showing all his teeth and his brows pulling together goofily. "Like this?"

"No, not like that," you laugh, smacking his shoulder lightly. He hears a squeak in your giggle and is thrown into his own fit. All your best laughs have squeaks in them. "Go back to how you were!"

You're both too sweet on each other, and he laces your fingers together to make sure you can't go away—even though you'd never.

"Oh, so now you want me to look at you?" he hums.

"Just not like a crazy person." He pulls you in so you're flat against his chest, and you don't have time to let your breath hitch until he's spinning you out again.

"How does a crazy person look?" He sets his beer down, pushing his hands into his hair and shaking it up. It sticks out all kinds of ways, a total mess.

"Like that," you nod dramatically.

"Like that?"

"Yeah." You add to the madness, your fingers carding through his hair. "Certified insane. It's a good look on you."

He snorts, fixing his hair again, "Yeah, I think so, too." When it's only in slight disarray, he sighs and looks down at you.

Eddie thinks you're beautiful. He likes your hair and your face and your soft hands and your pretty lips and bright eyes. He wants to hug you, but he'll settle for taking your hand when he realizes he's been staring at you for too long.

He starts pulling you with him as he walks. "Come on. I–"

A surprised gasp forces its way from your chest. You don't have time to process what's happening until after it's done. All you know is that it gets really cold and wet, and now your white dress is stained a bright red.

A round of snickering is heard above you. You look up to see a group of boys laughing obnoxiously over the stairs, a large bowl once filled with punch braced in their hands as they do. Everyone stands in shock, all talk ceasing when they see the sight of you drenched in red and these boys cracking up from it. It takes them a moment to catch wise...

Eddie is the first one to snap out of the shock, ignoring his hand, sleeve, and shoes just as wet. He mumbles something under his breath. Even in the relative silence, you don't make out the tiny "baby" that slips from his lips.

He sees your bottom lip tremble, your lashes already clumped with punch now clumping with the oncoming tears. The sudden urge to make everything okay again fills every inch of his bones. And as he looks up at these boys who'd hurt you, he wants nothing more than to let his fist meet pompous cheekbones.

"Tommy?" Your voice is meek, wavering with a brimming sorrow.

The other boys stop laughing immediately, looking down at you as their eyes fill with shock...and even fear. Tommy H, the main culprit, isn't so quick. When he notices their sudden change, he looks down as well.

That was meant for Eddie. Not you.

Now he knows fear.

Eddie watches your face contort even more until you're crying, tears falling down your cheeks and adding to the mess. He reaches out for your face, but you don't seem to notice as you rush past him, sniffles and all.

Eddie doesn't even get to shoot Tommy a threatening glare. He completely forgets about him for the moment in favor of following you through the house and out of the door, his shoes squeak-squeaking behind him.

He guesses you notice him following, because you reach a hand out behind you and catch his as you continue running out. Everyone parts ways, letting you pass without trouble. Eddie hears shouting behind him but keeps after you without a second thought.

You make it all the way to his van, parked outside in the crowded mess of cars and trucks. He opens the back doors for you so you can sit properly. You do, dropping your face in your hands as your chest heaves and you sob.

"Are you okay?" he asks, almost frantically. He runs his hands through your hair and gets you to look up at him so he can see your face clearly. It's covered in tears and punch and running mascara.

That same silent "oh, baby," passes his lips again, but you can hardly see the movement of it through your tears, so it's lost on you once more. Eddie's hands move to cradle your face. You keep sniffling, letting your body shake with shuddering breaths.

A horrible feeling curls in his chest. "Jesus," he mutters ruefully. "I should go back there and beat his ass."

He looks in the direction of the house, but you're already stopping him. "No, wait," you sniff. "It's okay."

But he's pissed. "No, it definitely is not okay–"

He's cut off by the sound of the front door opening forcefully. You both turn to see what's happening. As soon as you see Tommy H's freckled face, you hide in Eddie's chest. His gentle hands keep you there, rubbing and comforting you.

Tommy's running. He and the friends who hadn't escaped bolt from the house faster than Eddie thinks he's ever seen anyone run.

Someone hollers inside, and suddenly the entire football team is chasing after the boys, shouting and whooping and out for blood in the cover of street lamps in the night.

Directly behind them, Chrissy, Steve Harrington, and some brown-haired girl, stand by the door. They look after the boys but ultimately turn toward you. Chrissy doesn't look at all worried.

Eddie's attention is caught by a shouting voice.

"Y/N!" Jason Carver yells. "Do you need a ride home?"

You look up from Eddie's chest, wipe your face a little, and shake your head. "No. Eddie's taking me." You sniffle pitifully, "But thank you, Jason."

He nods, "No problem." Turning to Eddie, he raises his finger in a harsh point. "Take her home safe, Munson, or I'll skin you like a cat." He turns in the direction they're running, still in sight. He shouts loudly. "You better fucking run, you son of a bitch!"

"Hey, it's okay," you say, "You can let Tommy go." Eddie looks at you, obviously disagreeing, but says nothing.

Jason makes a face. "Why would I do that?" Then he's off again, shouting after the team and the runners.

You look toward the figures walking toward you and Eddie. Chrissy shakes her head gently, seemingly amused (only to you) but not smiling. Steve's expression is completely different, as he looks genuinely concerned but ultimately sympathetic. The other girl looks worried.

"Hey, you okay?" Steve asks, setting his hands on his hips and leaning.

You nod, wiping your nose and rubbing your hands on your wet clothes. It's not coming out. "Yeah..." you mumble, squeezing a couple tears out.

He sighs, "Tommy's way outta line for that one. I'm sorry, princess."

Eddie gets jealous for a moment that he's called you by his name for you before he remembers... Everyone calls you princess. It's basically your name.

"S'okay."

You glance at the girl, who gives a small nervous smile. She mouths silently, "I'm Robin." You give her the best smile you can manage. "Hope you're okay," she says gently.

Chrissy nods gently to herself. She shoots you a look, "Don't catch a cold." She looks at Eddie. "Get home safe. Both of you. Bye, babe."

You wave at her, a tiny lift of your hand from your lap. Another tear slips down your cheek.

"Come on, sweetheart."

Eddie braces a hand behind your back and eases you to stand. You do, taking his hand and letting him lead you. Steve pats his back gently before he's stepping away. Eddie closes the back door and opens your own like a gentleman. The three wave their goodbyes and start back toward the house.

He closes your door and goes to his side. The engine roars to life after having to twist the key a couple times. He starts driving. You're really quiet.

Eddie reaches a hand down and sets it gently on your knee, hoping it's not weird but also too worried about you to care. "Are you okay, Princess?"

You nod. "Yeah." You take in a large breath.

He shakes his head, his hand flexing on the wheel. "Why would you want them to let him go?" He hates the idea of someone hurting you and getting away with it. You deserve so much more.

"Hm?" You look at him, wiping the tears in your eyes. "Oh, I don't." You clear your throat and sniff. As you lick your lips, your face scrunches at the taste of alcoholic punch and lipstick. Eddie watches you try to wipe your face clean as best you can with your hands.

Your face scrunches. "Shit, I'm all sticky now."

Eddie's going to get whiplash.

"What?"

"Hm?" you look at him again. All evidence of your crying is gone. Your teary eyes are now only slightly watering, with your face kind of clean, no new fresh tears take their place. The sadness is wiped clean. You look back at him with the least amount of sorrow he's ever seen on you.

When you feel the van turning, you say his name and it swerves back in place. He puts his other hand back on the wheel.

"You were faking it?"

Suddenly, you smile. Eddie can't stand you.

"Of course," you say, shrugging. "It's just punch."

He sighs, feeling a little stupid but mostly just...amused. And really fucking relieved. He hates seeing you cry. You deserve so much more.

"I thought you were upset."

You laugh and he no longer has any reason to be upset. "No," you chuckle, "but Tommy's not happy."

He shakes his head. "I'm so confused."

You smile and sigh gently. "Thomas Hagan just poured a whole punch bowl on me—" you make doe eyes, "—the sweet, innocent princess of Hawkins—and then laughed his ass off like it was the funniest shit in the world." You shake your head, not at all upset. "He's not coming back from that."

Eddie smiles slowly. You're enjoying this. "You little–"

"He'll be blacklisted. No more hangouts, no more parties. He's done."

Eddie can't believe you. "Manipulative."

You pinch your fingers slightly and smile as you look through them. "Just a little."

"You're seriously not upset?" he wonders.

You're drenched head to toe, your hair is clumpy, your skin is sticky, your makeup is running all over your face, and your dress is forever ruined. But you're smiling like all is well with the world.

Again, you shrug. "I'll have to take a long shower now, but I'm okay."

He snorts lightly. "I bet."

You lean in slowly, smirking and bobbing your brows. "Never get on my bad side." A reminder. The one he asked for the last time Tommy had done something unbecoming.

And Eddie laughs. Not because he doesn't take you seriously, but because he just likes you so much. You are... everything to him.

Doing his best to keep his eyes on the road, he laughs loudly and fills the van with the sound of it. You get giddy at accomplishing such a feat and can't help but laugh with him. It's loud and obnoxious and just what you both needed. Warmth blooms in your chest, despite the cold shivers coming in, and you couldn't be happier.

~

Eddie pulls up on the curb, opening your door—like a gentleman—and helping you out. You mumble a quick apology about his sticky seats, to which he replies that those seats have seen worse. You don't know what he means, but you're hoping your idea is wrong.

In the driveway, yours and your dad's cars are parked and idle. Your mother is gone on a business trip—her boss' secretary—so he's probably home alone.

"Play it cool," you whisper to Eddie as you get to the door, messing with your sticky hair to make it look worse than it is. "How do I look?"

"Terrible," he lies.

"Great," you beam. You let your face fall immediately, and you look pitifully pretty.

You take Eddie's hand and let him open the door for you. As he's closing it, you glance around. "Daddy?"

"Yes, honey." You hear his footsteps as he enters the foyer. He turns the corner, "I thought you would be out longer–"

He looks up, stopping abruptly as he realizes what a mess you are. He furrows his brows, walking closer. "What happened to you?" He goes in to hug you, pausing when he sniffs. "Why do you smell like that?"

"Just..." you sniffle and Eddie watches a tear slip down your cheek. He thinks you're ridiculous, and he loves every moment of it. "Something happened at the party."

He picks up your hands and holds them in his palms. "What happened?"

You shake your head, looking down at the buttons of his shirt. Eddie stands close behind you, a hand on your back for support. It's warm, and you like the feeling of it. "Nothing."

"No," your father hums, tilting your chin up to look at him, "tell me."

You take in a big breath and let it out in a sigh. Your bottom lip trembles. "Tommy H," you confess. "He poured punch over my head on top of the stairs." You will more tears from your eyes. Your breath hitches, and you shake your head, "I'm sure it was an accident... He probably didn't mean to do it."

Technically, he didn't. It was meant for Eddie. But that's no better. You did warn him.

He raises a brow. "It looks like he spilled the whole bowl on you." He looks at his hand, red fruit punch staining his palm now.

You nod, a slow up and down that has him frowning deeper.

"Hey," he hums. "He won't mess with you anymore."

"Really?"

He nods, holding your chin. "Of course. No one messes with my little girl and gets away with it. We're cutting him off."

Bingo.

You shake your head, "It's okay. You don't have to do that."

He smiles gently, "But I will." He nudges your chin gently before letting you go. "Go get washed up."

He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and begins wiping his hands clean. "Thank you, Daddy." You would hug him, but you're still sticky. You're sure he wouldn't mind, but you'd rather avoid the mess anyway.

"Of course, honey." You kiss his cheek as you turn toward the stairs with Eddie's hand in yours. As his foot lands on the first stair, your father stops him.

"Hey."

Eddie turns.

"Did you drive her home?"

"Yes, sir."

He grunts. "Did you beat that Tommy kid up?"

Eddie shakes his head. "No, sir. Jockeys had him," he looks at you, spying a gleam in your eyes and smiling a bit. "I was just trying to get her home."

There's a short silence as your father smiles. He gives a firm nod, "Good man."

Relief fills his chest as he nods back. "Thank you, sir." You pull him up the stairs. He takes off his jacket.

You close the door behind him, your smile returning as you kick off your shoes. "Not only did we blacklist Tommy," you turn back to him, "but my dad also loves you now. Congrats."

Eddie furrows his brow as he heads toward your bathroom. "He does?" He turns on the sink, washing his sticky hands.

You nod. "Yeah." You disappear into your closet, coming back a moment later with a towel on your arm. "That's fatherly approval. You defended my honor, my knight in shining armor."

You take his arm and kiss his cheek as you walk past him. He feels giddy. "At least someone's parents love me." He starts taking off his shoes, setting them next to yours. Eddie sits at the edge of your bed.

You snort. "I'm gonna take a shower. Don't be a perv."

He kicks the floor playfully and sighs. "Ruined my whole night."

You point at him threateningly. "I'll tell my dad on you."

"I'll take pictures with me then. To remember you by." He winks.

You return the wink. "I'll make sure to pose for you."

You disappear into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Eddie sits in your room, smiling pathetically, so happy that you're okay and he's okay and he's your knight in shining armor.

Here he is, smiling like an idiot, surrounded by the scent of you in your room with all your pictures and all your knick-knacks. He slides onto the floor, resting his head back on the mattress. God, he's in trouble.

He's flipping through one of the books on your shelves when you come out, a cloud of steam following you as you dry your hair. He looks over your outfit, smiling but offering you a confused look.

"Is that mine?"

You look down at your shirt, one of his band tees that you'd taken a couple weeks ago. He'd been looking for that. You can keep it.

"Yeah," you nod. "I stole it from your room."

He chuckles. "Well, finders, keepers, I guess."

You smile, walking toward your drawer stocked with VHS tapes. "You wanna watch a movie? I can go make popcorn."

"Sure." He raises his brows. "Can I take a shower? I don't wanna get spiked punch everywhere."

You snort. "Course. There are towels in there, and some of your clothes are in my closet."

He tilts his head, sighing. "How many of my clothes have you stolen?"

You raise your hands in defense. "Just a few shirts and like...one pair of sweatpants."

He shakes his head at you as he goes to get a pair. He closes the bathroom door softly behind him.

He likes your bathroom. It's clean and mostly organized. It smells like lavender and rose, pearly whites and pale blues. He almost expected pink.

~

Eddie appreciated the weight of your body against his as you lean into his side. Labyrinth plays on the TV as the minutes tick by into the night.

He keeps looking at you, your heavy eyes drooping as you struggle to stay awake. It's late. You should be sleeping, but you're staying awake for him. It takes a lot not to turn his head and kiss the top of your own.

"You're warm," you mumble.

He smiles a little. "Yeah?" With the arm thrown over your shoulders, his fingers play with your hair. "You gettin' sleepy?" He knows the answer.

You nod, a sluggish movement against his arm. "Mhm."

He picks up the remote slowly, turning down the TV just a little more. "You should go to sleep then."

Your body becomes a little heavier against him. He takes all your weight, proud to. "Mmm," you slur. "Finish the movie."

A very light chuckle, as light as he can make it, eases from his chest. "We can finish it another time," he says so, so softly.

"No...Watch it now."

He does kiss your hairline this time, leaning his cheek on the top of your head. "Go to sleep, bossy."

He's not sure if you mean to say it, he's not even sure if you know you've said it. But when you whisper that little "love you", he loses his mind.

He smiles so wide, he feels his whole face start to hurt. He hadn't realized it would make him so happy to hear that, to hear your little confession spoken gently into the warmth of his chest. He turns his head so his words go into your hair. "Yeah?"

"Mmm."

He opens his mouth, thinks, and smiles. "I love you, too, baby."

You hum, and then he feels you slump. He doesn't mind. He doesn't mind the way he can't move his arm, he doesn't mind the way your hair gets in his face. He turns off the TV, leans back as slowly as he can, and lays the both of you down against your pillow to sleep.

You love him.

~

The entire day consists of Chrissy at your place getting ready for prom. The music doesn't stop and neither does the energy. You keep her happy and entertained and well-fed and then distracted again with more excitement so she doesn't get self-conscious and start panicking.

You also spend a lot of time keeping all the parents from the room. Your mothers keep trying to "help", and you keep having to kick them out because they're both annoying and overbearing.

Eddie keeps calling you. The walky-talky Dustin gave you both goes off regularly, at least once an hour to ask a question you'd had answered for days now.

"It is red, right? Not blue? It can't be blue; Chrissy's wearing blue." "Which knot are we doing on the bowtie? Wayne only knows the simple one but he's got a magazine with the other ones." "Am I leaving my hair down?" "I drive to your place, and then we take your car, right?"

"Yes, it's red. The whole outfit we picked is right." "Try the simple one. I can fix it if it looks weird, but it shouldn't. I trust you." "Do what makes you comfortable. I'll love it either way." "That's right. I know you really want to drive it." "Eddie, everything's gonna be fine. Don't worry."

"I know," he sighs. "I just don't wanna mess this up for you. I know you've been looking forward to it."

You giggle a bit. "As long as I get to spend time with you, Eds, tonight will be great."

"Such a charmer," he teases.

"It's my natural talent."

You set the device down, taking your spot across from Chrissy once more. She's smiling at you, albeit nervously.

"Are you sure I look okay?"

You smile, pinching her chin before reclaiming the small brush and finishing off the short, sleek wing of her eyeliner, all while holding your breath so you don't accidentally screw up. You draw a tiny heart just above the apple of her cheek.

"You are," you set the eyeliner down, "absolutely beautiful. You always are."

"Are you sure?" she says, a telling hand creeping to her belly.

You take her face in your hands, careful not to screw up her freshly done makeup. "Chrissy," you whisper, "you're perfect. Always, all the time, no matter what. I will never lie to you, and I'll never sugarcoat it. You're amazing, and I love you."

She takes a slow breath in and nods, smiling prettily. "Love you, too." You kiss her forehead.

"Now do my eyes," you smile, handing her a makeup brush. She giggles as she takes it.

And later on, as the night gets closer and the sun is beginning its descent, you and Chrissy are walking down the steps, holding each other's hands.

All the parents are gathered downstairs, smiling as your mothers cling to your fathers' sides. Your father smiles as you come down. "You both look like royalty," he declares, holding his arms open for you. Your mother moves to give you the space.

"Thank you, Daddy," you hum.

He pulls you back to see your face. "Anything for you, princess." He kisses your forehead.

Chrissy's sharing her own hug with her father. "I trust they were the dresses you wanted," he says.

She nods. "They were. Thank you, Daddy."

"Whatever you want, angel." He kisses her cheek.

Your father pats him on the back as they both wander into the kitchen, your mother follows behind them.

You try not to grimace when Laura stays back, looking her daughter up and down with a grimace of her own.

"I still think I should have loosened that dress up a little more." She moves forward, placing her hands on Chrissy's waist and trying to adjust the fabric.

Chrissy tries to smile through her discomfort. She puts a hand over her stomach and you retire your hard side-eye to come to her side. You weave your arm around her as you give her a reassuring grin.

"Well, I think you look beautiful." You nudge her chin, she smiles. "I envy you."

"I don't know," she tsks. "She's a little too big for her dress. Especially around the hips..."

You smile, turning to the side as you mumble under your breath. "Funny how you barely fit in that large sized dress."

Her brows shot up. "What was that?"

"Hm?" you ask, turning back to her. "Nothing. I was just saying you didn't need to stress."

She huffs, "You said something about a large."

Chrissy's head dips, attempting to cover a grin as you loop your arm through her elbow. "I was just...admiring your large heel."

There's silence as she stares at the both of you. Chrissy tries not to laugh at your dangerous idiocy whilst also struggling with not shrinking under her mother's terrible gaze. You have no issue in staring her right back down, your head tilting and your cordial smile held strong on your lips.

"You mean...'high' heel?" she corrects.

The tension in the air is thick. Chrissy finds it difficult to stand still as she shifts from foot to foot, staring down at the floor or the wall or her bracelet. Anything to avoid looking her mother in the eye—or you, for that matter, in fear that she would burst with laughter and build herself her own grave.

You hum and nod. "Of course. High horse—heel. My apologies."

Her hand raises to her chest, seemingly shocked by the blatant 'disrespect'. "You are being very disrespectful, young lady."

You were trying to be subtle but something about Chrissy's mother rips all the subtlety from you as you furrow your brows but continue to smile. "Oh, I wasn't aware decency was considered disrespectful."

Chrissy nudges your side gently, whispering your name in an urgent reprimanding. "What? What did I say?" you wonder.

Laura isn't having it. "Why, I should go tell your mother about your unpleasant behavior."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You try to look regretful, but you're sure you're missing the mark by a few hairs. "Oh, forgive me, Ms. Cunningham."

She huffs. "Missus, young lady."

"Right," you nod. "Mrs. Cunningham. I apologize." You tighten your grip on Chrissy's arm just a slight, making it harder for her to keep it together. She loves you, and she thinks you're hilarious. "It's unbecoming of a lady—such as myself—to behave in such a way."

"Yes, it is," she agrees. "One would think a girl like you would behave more appropriately."

You nod firmly. "Of course. I should respect my elders—I apologize, my superiors."

You could gag at the idea of it.

But she can't stand your "disrespect" any more as she huffs and shakes her head, making a various amount of scoffing noises as she begins walking away. "The nerve of children these days."

She leaves the both of you alone. Once you're sure she's out of earshot, Chrissy bends over laughing, covering her mouth and shaking her head to keep quiet.

"You're gonna get in trouble," she whisper-yells. Instead of shoving you away, she tightens her grip to pull you closer. Your foreheads practically touch as the two of you form a conspiring huddle.

You scoff. "I'm Daddy's angel. Doesn't matter what she tells my mom—who will tell my dad—Daddy's angel knows no wrong." It's a truth you repeat often, but it's one of those truths that have always been indisputable.

"Daddy's princess," she corrects you. "I'm the angel."

You shrug, humming. "You're technically the queen."

It's funny. You probably have a higher social standing than Chrissy does, but she was always the Queen of Hawkins while you were simply the princess—not that you minded, you would always support her.

Neither of you are quite sure why that is, but you think it may be because she became a cheerleader before you and then started dating Jason Carver. It doesn't matter. As long as you have her by your side, you would accept being the jester in this high school court of a kingdom.

Chrissy smiles, another giggle rattling her body. "So strange how you don't listen to me then."

You gasp dramatically. "I do! Otherwise I'd be out of the business, Your Highness. We both know I'm a little too dramatic to process common sense sometimes." She rolls her eyes playfully at you. "Exhibit A, Eddie."

She snorts. "Yeah, you were a little confused a couple times there.*

You gasp again, pretending to elbow her in the side. "You're mean!" She giggles again as you call out. "Daddy! Time for pictures."

"Coming, princess," he calls from the kitchen.

Chrissy whispers to you, "You're crazy."

You wink. "Crazy for you."

She rolls her eyes.

All the parents return with a camera. There are a multitude of flashes as they get every possible picture they could need—you and Chrissy, you and your parents, you and your dad, Chrissy and her parents, Chrissy and her dad, Chrissy and her mom (because her mother is insistent). More pictures will be taken when the boyfriends show up.

Jason is the first of the two to show up. As you predicted, there are more pictures. And as soon as those pictures are done, he and Chrissy leave, but not without a pink kiss to your cheek.

Then Eddie shows—without blaring his music through his speakers tonight. He isn't late, in fact he's perfectly on time.

As he walks up the steps to the house, he behaves like a gentleman the whole way. He rings the doorbell, you answer it before your father can, and you give Eddie your best smile.

He looks so handsome. He's in a black tux with a red dress shirt. His black bowtie is perfect, and you're sure it's because he didn't stop until it was. You would have thought he would keep his hair down, but he wants to impress you. His hair is shiny with product and so, so curly. He's got it pulled back in a half-up man bun.

And, of course, his rings are still in place. Shiny, freshly polished. Jesus, you loved him.

"Wow," he sighs at the sight of you. His doe eyes are wide, and his plump lips are parted. He looks starstruck.

"Do you hate it?" you worry, looking down at your dress. The theme is royalty in yours and Chrissy's honors. So, as intended, you look like a princess.

He shakes his head. "No."

You try not to mess with your hair by running your hands through it. "Is it too much?"

Eddie grabs your hand, smiling as he squeezes it gently. "You look fuckin' beautiful."

Your eyes seem to shine, and Eddie thinks you're trying to kill him. "Really?" you smile.

"You look like a princess," he promises, looking at you too closely. You're so, so pretty.

Something hits him, not literally. "Oo!" he exclaims, taking a step back. He turns on his heel with no explanation and rushes back to his van. You watch him, thinking that he's a total dork and that you wanna kiss him silly. There's something about being dressed up like this and being his not-date to prom that makes your feelings for him just that much more potent.

Usually you can get through the first five minutes without imagining your faces squished together in a too-affectionate kiss, but you can't help right now but to be riddled with the fantasy.

He comes back with something uselessly hidden behind his back. "I have this. Close your eyes."

You do as you're told because you trust him, and you would hold a ticking bomb in your palms if he asked you to. You feel him place something on your head—a tiara, you presume.

"Shit," he huffs breathlessly.

You peak your eyes open, raising your hands to feel the tiara with happy fingers. You want to burst. You're so much of a princess to him that he needed to give you a tiara. You're proper royalty now.

"Too much?" you ask.

"Never," he's quick to say. He smiles. "You're perfect."

You don't know what compelled you to say it. "Shit, you might as well kiss me now."

"Huh?" he wonders, as though he wasn't paying attention. You don't think he was.

He was. He definitely was.

"Nothing," you say anyway, covering your words with a grin as you take his hand and pull him inside. "Come on, my mom wants a picture."

He raises a brow, pointing to himself like a dummy. "With me?"

"'Course." You thread your hand through his elbow, and he gladly allows it.

"Seriously?" he asks.

"Yeah," you giggle. "We'll give some to Wayne, too. I'm sure he'd like a picture."

"Yeah," he mutters, fully agreeing but also slightly confused. You like him confused, he's sweet either way.

~

Eddie is a gentleman. As soon as you get to the party, he rushes out of the car just to open your door for you—as he always does. He takes your hand in the crook of his elbow and leads you inside. You smile the whole way, and he tells you that you're pretty when you smile. Your face hurts from smiling so much.

When you're inside, the music is already pounding in the floors and a lot of people are dancing. There are also, however, plenty of people sitting at the sidelines, watching others enjoy their time. People with no dates, people with dates ignoring them, people in friend groups. You notice Tommy H's freckled face hasn't shown up yet. A sly smirk threatens to overtake your warm smile.

You and Eddie spend the first hour dealing with everyone coming up to compliment you. You both expected this. The party's just started, you're running for queen, and...you look beautiful. Eddie does his best to swat away any of the vultures. When you spy Chrissy, you stick next to her and brave the vultures together.

Until Jason pulls her away for punch. She kisses your cheek as she goes, allowing her boyfriend to drag her away again. You don't mind, it gives you time with Eddie and his excited affection.

"Sup, Harrington," he calls when he spots Steve and—the girl you've come to know as—Robin Buckley. "I thought they didn't let old men in here."

Steve rolls his eyes as his palm smacks Eddie's. "You're older than me, Munson."

Eddie shrugs that heavy shouldered shrug and snorts. "By, like, a year."

Steve shakes his head and turns away from him, setting his eyes upon you. With a warm smile, he greets you. "You look great, Y/N."

"Like, drop dead gorgeous. You are stunning," Robin spews, taking in your outfit with plenty of appreciation for your style. A tiny squeal escapes her as she does.

"Thank you," you answer genuinely. You've grown to really like Robin in a short span of time. She's so sweet and geeky, and you love getting to hang out with her and Chrissy on the days where you've kicked the boys out. "You look beautiful, Bobby."

She seems to blush, looking down at her dress and nodding. It's probably too dressy for her, but your compliment makes her feel better. "Yeah, thanks."

She nudges Steve in the side hard enough for him to bring a hand to it and mutter a weak, "Ow."

"Steve wishes he had a date. He couldn't score one," she teases.

The three of you laugh as he rolls his eyes at the abuse. He'd hoped you would at least be nice to him, but it seems you've followed in Eddie's cruel footsteps. "Har, har. Laugh it up."

Robin takes his arm then, her giggles melting into her words as she smiles wide. "Anyway, we should go check out the punch. I heard someone spiked it and now we've got booze!"

Robin starts walking away with Steve, but when he pauses, she doesn't stop to wait for him. Steve sidles up to Eddie, leaning down to whisper in his ear and keep away from your prying ones. "It's now or never, dude. Don't keep making us listen to your gross pining."

Eddie grumbles, masking his anxiety with annoyance as he rolls his eyes. "I don't pine."

Steve scoffs. "Yeah, right."

Eddie pushes him away, to which Steve raises his hands in mock defense as he goes to catch up with Robin. He waves at you on his way. As if on cue, the music changes to something slow and steady, something romantic, and Eddie thinks the world is mocking him. When Eddie turns back to you, you're smiling at a couple who'd come up to say hi. He waits patiently for them to leave before he holds his kind of shaky hand out to you.

"D'you wanna dance?" he asks after clearing his throat a couple times.

You smile that drop-dead smile at him and he finds it a little harder to breathe. You slip your hand into his palm, and he hopes his isn't sweaty. "Yeah," you mumble fondly, standing close as you let him guide you to a spot within the dancing couples. Your heart beats so fast, drowning on his nervous fondness.

He holds you with timid hands, one in your hand and one on your side. You're just familiar enough that his touch does not feel as awkward as you feel. You try not to melt against him, to lay your head upon his chest and close your eyes, to let him sway you with the gentleness he feels swelling in his chest and tingling in his fingers.

He stares at your face, and it feels natural for him to do so. Your hand on his shoulder slides further to wrap around the back of his neck. He smiles at the soft glow in your eyes, the little sparkle of life that erupts every time you look at him.

"You're really pretty," he whispers as his eyes look over all the glorious features of your face: your soft lips, your kind eyes, your plush cheeks, your adorable nose, your fluttering lashes he wants to feel lay little butterfly kisses on his face.

You look down from his eyes momentarily, hoping the warmth in your cheeks and the shortness of your breath isn't too evident. "This dress was really expensive, so I'm glad you think so–"

He doesn't mean to cut you off, but he does. "I'm not talking about the dress." He can't help it when his hand strays from your hand to hold the side of your face, his thumb brushing the gentlest touch against the apple of your cheek. "You're pretty without the dress."

You stare at him with the biggest, shiniest eyes. He loves when you look at him like this.

Then he realizes maybe he weirded you out.

"N-Not, like, naked! I just meant, y'know, even without the fancy dress, just in regular clothes, too. You're just..." he clears his throat pathetically, "you're really pretty."

You tip your head back to laugh sweetly, the one with the squeaks—the one he really likes because of its sincerity. His hand wraps farther around your waist. You respond—seemingly unconsciously—by setting your other arm on his shoulder. He secures both hands at your waist.

"I know what you meant, Eddie," you giggle, giving him one last squeak just to please him—though he knows you didn't do it on purpose.

He nods, letting his own giddy laugh escape him. "Cool."

A chuckle, one of the ones that goes through your nose as you stifle a grin. You move slowly, like you're trying not to startle an animal, as you set your head on his chest. You step just a slight closer, and he graciously lets his hands wrap tighter around you. His head rests against the top of your heart.

It's close and warm and it makes you both smile. He smells nice, familiar, like the cologne you bought him, deodorant, and cigarettes. Under the music and the sound of his clothes brushing your ear, you can hear the faintest beat of his heart. It's quick, heavy. You can feel it against your cheek if you really focus.

You chuckle so lightly. "Eddie, calm down. Your heart is, like, super fast."

He clears his throat, speaking through his fond haze. "My bad."

He's so nervous. Steve's words play over and over again in his mind. "It's now or never, it's now or never, it's now or never, it's now–" and he is so afraid to pick now that all he does is sway and breathe the scent of your soft perfume, and under that, your—supposedly—scentless lotion.

He's so afraid that he's missed his chance. He knows you love him, but he's stuck on the possibility that you don't love him like you did. Maybe now, after having waited so long, you love him like a best friend, you love him like a brother. Maybe now that he's finally fallen for you, you don't have the capacity to stay low with him.

He's so afraid.

You both sway to the music, moving so slowly. There's a pause, it feels like. You feel like something is supposed to be said or done but...no one is doing it. The music changes again, but neither of you have stopped your slow dance. You rue the moment you have to tear away from him.

But there was a pause.

"Do you want to stop?" you ask gently, hoping against hope that he says no.

And he answers your prayer better than you could have asked for. It's a quick, "absolutely not," that leaves no time for any conceived hesitation.

You're so relieved. "Okay..."

His response is just as immediate. "I like you."

You look up at him, smiling gently. The sight of him warms your heart, all the softness in his big features, all the gleaming in his dark eyes. "I like you, too."

"No, like..." he sighs, struggling to say what he wants to say as his hands find firmer purchase at your waist out of nerves. "I really like you."

You're confused as to how to respond. Smiling strangely and furrowing a brow, you chuckle, "Thank you?"

Not quite. "I mean–"

"Eddie," you pause, donning a playful voice. "You're being weird again."

He wants to laugh but his ears are burning. "What I mean to say is..." now or never, "I fuckin' love you."

Your heart leaps to your throat, and you almost choke on it. It's beating so fast, you feel it in every pulse in your body. "Like..." you think quickly, though your thoughts are jumbled. "Like a friend? Like Steve and Robin."

"Not at all."

You shake your head, thinking his not platonic love for you is too good to be true. "I'm confused."

He's already said it, there's no use in being shy. He chuckles, and then takes a deep breath, and then blows it out. You stare up at him, eyes gleaming and lips parted so delicately. He wants to kiss you.

"I'm..." Breathe. "I'm in love with you, Princess." And then your heart stops. You're surprised you haven't fallen in the middle of the dance floor. He holds you up with all the fondness in his heart. "I was trying not to fall for you, I wasn't going to–" he says it with the same resolve as picking up candy at the gas station, like loving you is such an easy thing to do, "–but then we started hanging out, and you ended up being really, really cool. Then, I sort of just..." He sighs, trying to find the words. "I started really liking you. Then I picked you up for that concert, and you were so gorgeous—you always are. And I picked you up tonight and saw you in this...fuckin' awesome dress, and I couldn't breathe because you're just... You're so beautiful, and–"

You shut him up with a kiss. You sit here and listen to his compliments forever, but you couldn't wait any longer to feel his lips on yours. You've wanted this for so long, craved this kind of intimacy with him since you first saw him and thought he was super weird. And he was, you were right. You often are.

His lips are soft and warm, and you love the feeling of kissing him. It sways in your chest and warms the pit of your stomach, and it tingles in your fingers and ears and you just...lean into it like it's such a natural thing. Your hand wraps around the back of his head, tangling in his hair to pull him closer. His hands tighten around your waist and pull you flush against him. Happy hands hold the other, an innocent desperation to be near.

Fuck, you love him and his stupid anxiety. You love him in all his strangeness, his eccentricities, his eager hands and giddy eyes. Kissing him is one of the best decisions you've made, and it's one you hope you can continue to make forever and ever and ever.

When your lips pull apart and you're breathing each other's air, you keep your eyes closed as your lashes flutter. "I love you, too," you whisper, pulling him even closer. Your affection for him had only grown over the last few months, from a swelling warmth to a bursting excitement that grows still with every Eddie-ism.

"Sorry it took so long," he replies, your lips brushing with his words as his hand raises to brush your cheek.

You shrug lazily. "I'm glad it happened at all," you're still so close. You forget the music is still playing, you forget people are dancing to something fast and loud, you forget people are probably staring and talking and laughing and dancing and carrying on while you and Eddie are stuck in your own world, confessing and kissing and loving.

You chuckle, resting your head on his chest for a moment before lifting up again. "Chrissy'll be ecstatic."

He laughs, his hand splayed along your lower back as he rubs the spot affectionately. "Yeah, well... They certainly are."

You look over to where he motions with his head, giggling when you see Steve and Robin beaming and throwing thumbs up at the two of you, as though they were being subtle in their celebration. If you look over just a bit, you can see Chrissy smiling like it was her being kissed and loved on so sweetly. She pulls Jason with her as she joins the other two in your success—which is, in turn, their success.

You snort. "You have weird friends."

"Correction: we have weird friends."

What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine. You're okay with that.

You get giddy all over again looking at his face. "I'm so fuckin' happy right now." You lift up on your toes and kiss him again, drinking in his loving affection. When you pull away, you smile wide.

"Do you wanna go to the movies with me?" he asks, bringing an eager hand up to cup your chin.

You smile, containing your laugh. "You won't stand me up?"

He laughs, a big one that rumbles in his entire body and spreads to your own. "No, I won't stand you up," he says. "I'll open your door like a gentleman, I'll buy your snacks, I'll drive you back home and give you a goodnight kiss."

Your voice is soft, though the music shouldn't permit it to be. "Can we go back to your place?"

"Mine?" he wonders. Yours is probably better, he thinks.

"Yours is better." It's like you've read his mind, and you need to prove him wrong with his own phrasing.

He shrugs, "It's small."

You respond with your own shrug, holding him a little longer. Your thumb rubs against the back of his neck. "It feels like a home."

He hums. "Not very gentlemanly, taking you back to my place."

You snort. "Not like my parents'll notice." The way you say it makes his heart hurt. They wouldn't realize I was gone. "Your house is lived in," you say with a new gentleness. "I want to be with you." And then you get shy, shrugging one shoulder and slanting your chin down to meet it. "And maybe I just want to make out with my boyfriend."

Eddie blushes all over at the word, like he's a school boy flirting with his playground crush. "Right?" you ask quickly. "I can call you that?"

"Please do."

You purse your lips and giggle at his eagerness. You can't help it, you kiss him again. You love the way he kisses, full of smiles and warmth and a hint of desperation.

You pull back, your hand on his chest. "Does this mean you'll let me buy you gifts again?"

He rolls his eyes and laughs lightly, shaking his head before conceding with a grin. "Within reason." He couldn't say no to you, especially not now.

Your hands sit fondly at either side of his face. Your thumbs brush his skin. "I can deal with that."

And this time, he kisses you.

Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @queermaxwooo @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash @jjmaybankswifes-blog @thegr8estpuff @lover-of-books-and-tea @xxhanililoxx Eddie the Banished taglist: @eddiiiieeee @hb8301 @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420 @mewchiili @mischieftom

[seungvocado]

Break Ground [Part 3]

υ´• ﻌ •`υ — Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

υ´• ﻌ •`υ — Content/Trigger warning: Step brother!Seungmin, Step sister!Reader, Fem!Reader, Slow burn, Slight angst, Kind of Cheating (?), Possessive Seungmin, Jealous Seungmin. [Let me know if I miss out any!]

υ´• ﻌ •`υ — Sypnosis: Y/N who is secretly in love with her Seungmin - even before they were step-siblings, navigates the complexities of their relationship. Unspoken feelings escalates when she dates another boy to distract herself from Seungmin.

υ´• ﻌ •`υ — Master list - Break Ground (mini series)

υ´• ﻌ •`υ — 18+ work! MDNI! Ageless/blank blogs will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog.

After the gruelling weeks of finals, Y/N and her friends were ready to let loose. The collective sigh of relief at the end of their last exam quickly turned into excited chatter as they planned a night out. They decided on dinner first, followed by a visit to a local bar where they could finally unwind after weeks of stress and sleepless nights.

The dinner was lively, filled with laughter and shared stories of their exam experiences. But it was at the bar where things truly began to spiral. They ordered drinks, played games, and cheered each other on as the night progressed. Y/N found herself drinking more than she usually would, the alcohol working quickly to loosen her inhibitions. Her boyfriend was by her side, trying to convince her to slow down, even helping her drink when she lost a game.

At one point, Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, her vision blurring as she felt his hand gently run through her hair. It was comforting, and for a moment, she allowed herself to relax, letting the noise of the bar fade into the background.

But then, one of her friends suggested a game of truth or dare. The group, already buzzed and in high spirits, eagerly agreed. When it was Y/N’s turn, she chose dare, laughing as she waited for the challenge. The dare she received, however, was far from funny.

“I dare you to call one of your family members and ask them how many times you should fuck your boyfriend tonight,” her friend said, giggling mischievously. The others joined in, egging her on despite the obvious discomfort on her boyfriend’s face.

“That’s a bad idea,” her boyfriend whispered to her, trying to take her phone away. “Let’s skip this one.”

But Y/N, already a few drinks in, was feeling bold and reckless. Before he could stop her, she had already dialled a number, her finger hovering over the call button for a moment before she pressed it.

The phone rang, and Y/N waited, half expecting it to go to voicemail. But then, someone picked up on the other end.

“Y/N? Where are you? Why aren’t you home yet? It’s late,” came the familiar voice, stern and concerned.

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her drunken mind struggling to process the situation. But the dare was still echoing in her ears, and before she could think better of it, she blurted out the question. “How many times… should I fuck my boyfriend tonight?”

There was a tense silence on the other end of the line. Her friends around her laughed, though some were starting to realize the gravity of what had just happened. Her boyfriend looked horrified, his face paling as he recognized the voice on the other end.

“Y/N,” the voice over the phone was calm, dangerously so, “hand the phone to your boyfriend. Now.”

The seriousness in the person’s tone cut through Y/N’s haze, but she was too disoriented to fully grasp what was happening. She handed the phone over without thinking, and her boyfriend reluctantly took it.

Y/N watched as her boyfriend listened to whatever the person over the phone was saying, his face growing more ashen with each passing second. He tried to stammer out a response. Her boyfriend, pale and visibly shaken, fumbled with the phone before hanging up. He looked around the bar, clearly distressed and unsure of what to do next. His eyes darted around, trying to find a solution as Y/N’s friends continued to laugh and jeer, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

It wasn’t long before Seungmin made his entrance. He moved through the crowded bar with a purposeful stride, his presence commanding attention. His expression was one of intense focus and barely contained anger. The moment he spotted Y/N and her boyfriend, he headed straight for them.

Y/N’s boyfriend saw Seungmin approaching, and his face went even whiter. He tried to shield Y/N, stepping in between her and Seungmin, but the effort was futile. Seungmin, his eyes cold and unyielding, quickly took control of the situation.

“Y/N, we’re leaving,” Seungmin said firmly, his voice cutting through the noise of the bar.

Y/N, her mind still foggy from the alcohol, blinked at him in confusion. Seungmin’s presence, though imposing, was a comfort she didn’t fully grasp in her current state. He gently but firmly guided her away from the bar, his grip steady and reassuring.

Her boyfriend, looking relieved but also scared, tried to protest. “I didn’t mean for—”

“Save it,” Seungmin interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “You’ve done enough.”

With that, Seungmin led Y/N out of the bar, his arm wrapped securely around her. The cool night air hit Y/N’s face as they stepped outside, and she began to realize the full extent of what had happened. Seungmin’s familiar scent filled her senses, a mix of clean linens and something uniquely him.

As they reached the car, Seungmin opened the door for Y/N and helped her inside, his touch gentle despite his stern demeanour. Once she was settled, he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the car’s interior a cocoon of quiet.

Y/N glanced over at Seungmin, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the tight grip on the steering wheel. Despite her inebriation, she could sense the depth of his concern and the barely restrained anger.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her voice slurred and filled with regret. “I didn’t mean—”

Seungmin cut her off with a soft sigh, his eyes fixed on the road. “It’s okay, Y/N. Let’s just get you home.”

The drive was quiet, the only sounds being the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the wind. Y/N leaned against the window, feeling a mix of shame and gratitude. Seungmin had come through for her in a way she hadn’t expected, and the reality of her actions hit her harder with each passing mile.

When they finally arrived home, Seungmin helped Y/N inside, his touch gentle but firm. As he guided her to her room, he remained silent, his face a mask of concern and frustration.

Y/N, feeling the weight of the night’s events, looked up at him with a mixture of apology and something else—an acknowledgment of the unspoken bond between them. “Thank you,” she whispered as he helped her into bed.

Seungmin nodded, his eyes softening slightly. “Just… be careful, okay? I’m not always going to be around to save you from your own mistakes.”

With that, he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Y/N lay in bed, the events of the night replaying in her mind. The realization of how deeply Seungmin cared for her, despite their complicated relationship, was both comforting and unsettling.

υ´• ﻌ •`υ — υ´• ﻌ •`υ — υ´• ﻌ •`υ — υ´• ﻌ •`υ

Y/N stirred in her bed, she’s not sure how long she has stayed in bed, the events of the night replaying in her mind. The image of Seungmin's stern, concerned face haunted her. Unable to shake off the mix of shame and lingering emotions, she found herself unable to sleep.

Y/N suddenly remembered that their parents are both out of town, which explains why her mom was not up waiting for her when she and Seungmin returned home. The weight of what had transpired pushed her from her bed, her movements unsteady as she made her way down the hallway to Seungmin’s room. She crept quietly, her steps barely making a sound as she approached his door. The house was dark and silent, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlights outside. With a deep breath, she pushed open the door to Seungmin's room. Seungmin, already in bed and seemingly deep in thought, was jolted awake by the slight creak of the door. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw Y/N standing there, her posture hesitant yet determined. “What are you doing?” Seungmin asked, his voice a mix of concern and confusion. He sat up, trying to make sense of the situation. Y/N, still slightly intoxicated and driven by a tumult of emotions, moved closer to him. She climbed onto the bed and, despite her state, was handsy with him, her touch lingering and desperate. “Seungmin…” she murmured, her voice slurred but filled with longing. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” Seungmin’s expression shifted from shock to something more guarded. He gently pushed her hands away, trying to maintain control over the situation. “Y/N,” he said firmly but gently, “are you here because you didn’t get to… be with your boyfriend tonight?” Y/N mewled, a soft, almost feline sound of need. Her eyes, still clouded with intoxication, looked at him with a mix of vulnerability and desire. “No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I haven’t had any intimacy with him before. I just need you, Seungmin. Only you.” Seungmin’s heart raced, torn between his own emotions and the responsibility he felt toward her. He knew how dangerous it was to act on these feelings, especially with Y/N’s current state of mind. But hearing her confession, seeing her so exposed and vulnerable, was almost unbearable. “Y/N,” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly, “you need to think clearly. This isn’t the right time. You’re not in the best state to make decisions right now.” But Y/N shook her head, her eyes pleading. “No, please… I need you. I know you care for me. I can feel it.” Seungmin took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He gently but firmly took her hands in his, holding them away from him. “You’re not thinking straight right now. We need to talk about this when you’re sober and fully aware of what you’re saying.” Y/N’s expression shifted from pleading to hurt, but she slowly nodded, recognizing the truth in his words. “Okay,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible. “I’ll wait.” Seungmin helped her settle onto his bed, covering her with the blankets. He sat beside her, his own emotions a chaotic mess as he struggled to maintain his composure. The room was silent except for the soft sound of Y/N’s breathing and Seungmin’s deep, steady breaths. As Y/N’s eyes grew heavy with sleep, Seungmin remained by her side, his mind racing. The night had revealed more than he had intended, and the boundary between them had shifted in ways he wasn’t prepared for. He knew he had to be careful, both for Y/N’s sake and his own. The complexity of their feelings was becoming increasingly apparent, and navigating this new terrain would require careful consideration and restraint.

[laura1633]

I don't know what this is, I guess it is a sort of unedited little half drabble about Max bottoming for the first time. Maybe something I might work into a longer fic some point because I am thinking I would like to write a nice Lestappen soft first time experience. Like I say, this is unedited though

Max is shaking, Charles can see the Dutchman's muscles trembling and feel them twitch beneath his palm as he strokes over his thighs. Charles has seen various versions of Max over the years but he’s never seen him quite so nervous before. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I don’t need you to go slowly” Max breathes out. He’s lying of course, Charles absolutely does need to do this slowly or it’s most likely going to hurt. Max has never had sex with a guy before let alone bottomed so Charles fully intends on taking his time.

“I prefer slow sometimes” Charles hums as he wiggles his fingers around. Max’s body tenses at the movement inside him but he’s at least making happy little sounds between the gasps and hisses now. 

“It feels really odd” Max finally admits, he doesn’t really need to voice anything though, his facial expressions have told Charles everything he needs to know.

“You want to still carry on?” Charles leans in and presses a few kisses up and down Max’s thighs before looking up to see the Dutchman nodding. His face is rosy red and his chest is heaving up and down. 

“I think you are open enough” Charles eases his fingers out slowly, Max’s muscles are still a little tight but it’s to be expected, “It might hurt a but but if it hurts too much tell me” 

“It will be fine” Max smiles, he seems to be flittering between excitement and anxiety.

“But still, let me know. No heroics” Charles grins, “This is meant to be fun” 

“I know” Max laughs, the sound rushing out of him in one breath as if he is finally releasing the tension. 

Charles takes his time rolling on a condom before lining up. There’s a slight gape in Max’s hole now and it’s all glistening wet from the rather healthy amount of lubricant Charles has used.. As he lines up he hears Max sucking in another deep breath and holding it in tight. 

“Just breathe normally” Charles brings his lips to Max’s jaw and peppers kisses up his jaw line as he waist for him to exhale. Then he pushes in. Max’s muscles tighten and the Dutchman’s eyes go wider. Charles inches in a little more, bit by bit. Slow and steady. Keeping a close eye on the way Max is looking back up at him. It’s not nerves he sees now though, it is trust.

“I feel full” Max laughs faintly but screws his eyes shut for a split second like he’s trying to take in all the new sensations, “You’re really deep inside me. I feel really full.” 

Charles bites back a moan and just about manages to hold off bucking forward. Max isn’t putting on a show right now, he’s still shaking and his hands are gripping hold of Charles so hard the Monegasque imagines he is going to be left with bruises tomorrow. It’s worth it though. Worth it to see the small smile that creeps on to Max’s face as he lets himself adjust to the sensation. Worth it to hear the soft little moans and whimpers start to get more frequent and louder as Charles does start moving. Worth it to finally give Max something he has been denying himself for the longest time. Worth it to finally give Max this experience and have it be with someone he trusts and someone who is going to look after him and make it as good as possible. 

[crguang]

how do you think kafka would fall in love with her s/o? like what does she notice first and makes her want to know her future s/o more. would love to hear your thoughts

i love any excuse to yap about kafka let me think… imo to catch kafka’s attention you would have to stand out a little. she lives a very exciting life and i think she’d be attracted to bold personalities, people with a certain talent she admires, just someone who kinda stands out from the crowd in any way. that would pique her curiosity for sure, but i do think she loves boldness in general. someone who can tell her to go to hell? someone who isn’t afraid of her and who plays hard to get a little? she’d want you so bad. would go out of her way to get on your nerves because she wants your attention, and that can translate as either pissing you off by being annoying or being excessively flirty, suggestive, sending you lots of things… i think the first step or indication that kafka’s getting emotionally involved is her need for attention from her s/o and the time dedicated to you. shes not clingy but she’ll take the time to check up on you even if she’s worlds away by calling or texting just to talk to you, she asks questions like “miss me?” and stuff because she wants you to say yes, buys stuff that make her think of you, etc etc. the feelings come after you’ve built a corner for yourself in her mind. i headcanon kafka as someone who intellectualizes her feelings more than she feels them, so she’s able to tell how shes feelings without necessarily feeling the emotions, so in consequence of that she realizes them a bit late. emotions that are instantaneous like anger or disgust don’t require much intellectualization, but love is slow to build and it would certainly silently creep up on her until it’s too late to remove herself from the situation. i hc that love/romantic feelings are the one thing that will always surprise her, at least from her part. she doesn’t ask herself “do i have a crush on them…?” like most people would do, that introspection about her feelings wouldn’t come naturally to her because she doesn’t expect them. so by the time she realizes that she loves someone it’s like “oh. shit.” cause things just got complicated very quickly

kafka prides herself on knowing people, it’s part of her power/advantage over them and she just likes observing human nature in general so once she’s curious about you she will want to know you. knowledge eliminates surprises and i just feel like if she’s intrigued she’s certainly gonna do something about it. she has no shame or anxiety like 😭 she’ll approach you no problem depending on the context, but she’ll also spend a lot of time observing you. she’s good at reading people and their body language so trust she notices the little things, they all contribute in painting a picture of you in her mind which will in turn make her feel more in control. the thing with kafka imo is that control is very important to her, and you can’t have intimacy and control in a relationship; intimacy requires risk and vulnerability and she’ll never fully expose herself, but what’s a little annoying is that she’ll probably expect that from you. she understands you but you don’t necessarily understand her. this is how she treats her relationships and it kinda sucks because u can never have complete intimacy if there’s a power imbalance in terms of vulnerability. at least in social psychology lmfao

but yeah falling in love is a slow process and it’s definitely obvious cause we know how she acts when she cares (with the tb) and it’s made painfully clear, so if you pay a little attention to her behavior towards you vs others you’ll be able to realize it maybe even before she does 😭 it’s endearing really. i can’t tell you how exactly she’d fall in love bc it depends on the context but once the train is in motion there’s no stopping it

[boredw69]

Only In His Office- Ch.4 Negan X Readert

Y/n is 19 year old Senior in high school who is particularly quiet but that's only because she always takes the time to write in her notebook filled with.. thoughts about someone imparticular, but its not who you expect it to be…

◇There is a age gap in this book so if you are not ok with that or if it makes you uncomfortable then you do not have to read, it's your choice.◇

Warnings: Age gap, Sexual themes, Cursing, (Bad writing :O, didnt proof read. Oop

Word Count: 1358

The next few days went on as normal, and it was Friday before I knew it. It was already mid day and I was in the gym sitting on the bleachers for the free period.

Try outs were after school today; and for once I had an ounce of positivity about it. Maybe getting out and playing a sport actively with help with my odd addiction to writing. 

The squeak of a shoe echoed across the gym floor. I looked up to see Negan approaching me.. Of course; I was naive to think he would be too busy planning tryouts to notice me in the corner of the bleachers. I folded up my notes and shifted to sit up a bit.

"Well; So obsessed you had to come visit me on your free period?" He smiled.

I choked out a small laugh. 

"Excited for tryouts?" He asked sitting down next to me.

"I suppose.."

He tilted his head trying to get a better look at my face. "She speaks." he let out a chuckle

"Psh.. Yea.." I mumbled.

I looked out over the gym, things had already been laid out for try outs. Small areas taped off on the floor, cones placed in different patterns, and oddly enough the hoops were lowered. Negan followed my eyes to the basketball hoops and cleared his throat.

"Makin' it easy for ya" smirking he looked back to me.

"Your joking right?" I stood from my seat and walked around the gym to the closest hoop. I looked up and laughed. This was too easy; So easy that someone who had never played could dunk it.

Negan stood now walking over to me and stretching his arm up to touch the rim. "Maybe your right" sarcasm was laced through his words. "Think we should give it a test run?" he looked down on me. 

I bit down on my lip thinking for a minute. I was at a small disadvantage.. But practice is practice. "sure".

Negan held back a smile as he nodded. Heading over to the ball rack he palmed a ball passing it between his two hands before chest passing it to me roughly.

I caught it with a huff. "ouch." I spat.

I began to dribble the ball practicing passing the ball on and off both hands.

Negan didn't seem to waste any time fucking around coming around to smack the ball out of my hands before I ran with it across the court. I slowed down at the hoop going in for a lay up.

The ball circled the rim before falling off into the net. I rebounded the ball and dribbled once before realizing he was already on top of me. Nowhere to go I simply held and defended the ball. I turned against him.

"shit." I whispered. 

"Yea." He leaned down against me whispering against my neck.

Still not pressed fully against him i panicked. What if someone saw us this close? This is dangerous; But being this close is nice. His chest was so close to my back, and I could feel one of his legs pressed onto me. 

Lost in my train of thought he grabbed the ball and held it over his head and shot it from across the court; it circled the rim and fell off the side. 

"Worth a shot." He said cockily.

I stood up normally, turning to face him, still weirdly close. He looked down smiling. 

My face got hot, and my body too. I was doing it again. 

"I should get back to studying" 

He huffed; "Studying? You mean writing away in that little notebook of yours?" He questioned.

My breath caught in my throat. "What- No. I have school work to do." I fumbled on my words.

He burst out laughing, "Yea, yea of course."

My expression flattened, unmoving, bored with the joke. I turned back and started to head towards my things.

"What'do ya say we go talk about try outs in my office?" He didn't follow me he just stood with a lean in the middle of the court.

I slowed in my pace trying to make out what he had just said. 

He began after the ball that was slowly wandering the court floor. Picking it up and dribbling it slowly back to the rack. As I picked up my things I turned back to face him. 

"Hell' Bring that book of yours.. Maybe we could brainstorm a new page for ya." He teased.

My heart skipped a beat and I began to feel.. Aroused? again.. I nodded unsure of where this was going.. But where ever it ends up I'm sure it will be worth taking chances.

I nodded simply, and with a smirk from him we walked back to his office.

He sat down in his chair and patted the desk; "Lay 'er out and we can get to brainstorming" He continued on.

I sat down in a chair just in front of his desk now digging in my backpack for the notebook. 

Not entirely sure why I was just simply doing what he asked I placed the book in front of me and he flipped it to a random page.

"Why don't you read it allowed.?" He leaned back in his chair.

My eyes trailed down looking at the book; Then slightly up now seeing the tint in his gray pants. 

No way this was happening. 

"I- Erm. I can't." I cleared my throat.

Negan shifted in his seat looking me over head to toe; "How come?"

"Its.. embarrassing."

He scoffed, "Hell yea it is." Leaning forward in his chair he looked at me eye level; "But from what I read." He paused, "You're into that."

My heart was racing. What do I even say..

My skin pricked uncomfortably from how hot I was getting. I crossed my legs trying to settle the excited feeling. I looked up as he pushed the book closer.

"His hand gripped around my throat stifling my breathing as his hips..-" I gulped, "Rutted into my ass.." stopping I looked up to him. He was watching me with hungry eyes.

He nodded signaling me to continue.

"The water from the shower ran over us both our skin beginning to redden from the water pressure."

Negan stopped me. "So detailed." He stood up making me settle into my seat as I followed his movements. "Where do you come up with these settings?" he asked.

"I'm not sure.. I just use my imagination I guess."

He slid in front of me, my sightlines just above his belt. He leaned down close to my face. I swallowed my saliva nervously as stared me down.

"What are you thinking right now? Hm.?" He whispered.

"I want to kiss you.." I say bluntly.

He stifled a smirk. "Yea.?" voice arrogant in tone.

Leaning closer I closed my eyes.

Our lips brushed against one another his beard poking at my chin and upper lip. I closed the gap moving closer to kiss him. 

 He kissed back leaning down further to grab behind my neck and guided me to stand up. My hands fell to his hips resting on his leather belt.

I could feel as his fingers laced into my hair, he gripped down hard pulling lightly at the roots. As we kissed my legs rubbed against each other yearning for any sort of friction. Slowly getting closer to him simply just wanting to feel more. My chest pressed against his ribs and He broke the kiss with a deep breath. I could feel him looking down to me as he groaned.

My heart fluttered; I suppose I never thought of him as a verbal man.

He grabbed at my shoulders slowly pulling me away from him; "Shit.."

I looked up trying to gauge his expression.

"We should probably slow down" He licked his lips huffing before going back behind his desk.

I grabbed my book awkwardly shoving it back into my backpack and heading towards the door.

I cleared my throat, "I'll see you at try outs".

------

Tryouts went normal and everyone was sent home with a small pamphlet readying us for first practice dates and uniforms.

Sitting in the passenger seat of my dads truck I finished the paperwork, confirming my shoe, pants and shirt size. I signed the bottom and folded it up.

"How did it go?" My dad asked nonchalantly 

"I think it went good." I held back a giddy smile.

[muserepeats]

29 or 36 for fexi? Maybe the first time they call each other baby or another pet name???

Or 36 would kill me

Your writing is so incredible. And you write them so in love with each other, I am melting and get all emotional 😩🥹. and also hot and bothered because the smut is top tier too! We are blessed 💖

Thank you for the kind words! It really means a lot to read them. (And again, apologies for not responding sooner. Soft prompt post here in case anyone is curious.) Here is #29, from a new crossover fic (promised long ago) that I've started and hope to share next year. 🏈 😉✨

Lexi hears the buzz of her cell phone on the bedside table. It’s not a surprise to be interrupted by a phone call at this hour, but the excitement never fades. She knows as soon as she drops her book, reaches for the device beside her, and turns the screen towards her, Lexi will see his name. Every night it’s the same.

The flutter in her chest was unfamiliar that first time he called her, after the New Year’s Eve party and her brave trip to the convenience store and a few days of texting. Now, nearly 8 months later, the feeling is reliable, his calls are expected, but her heart races just the same. It’s enough to make her pause before answering, to remind herself that this is the feeling she’s been dreaming of her entire life. 

“Hey, Fezco,” she says through a blush and an uncontrollable smile. 

“Hey, Lex. How you doin?” His familiar drawl in her ear is a balm for every bad memory, every moment of self doubt. Finally, she has someone to count on.

“I’m good, even better now.” Lexi steals a glance over at her sister, who responds with an annoyed glare.  The sight of Cassie pushing herself off the bed with a huff is something she enjoys a little more than she should. Lexi tries to ignore the distraction and focus on the voice on the other end of the line.

These days, Cass has mastered the mix of a disgusted scowl and frustrated sigh, complemented by an almost imperceptible eye roll. Just a year ago, the tables were completely turned. It was Lexi sitting across the room, trying to concentrate on her Algebra 2 problem set as her sister cooed some saccharine nonsense into the phone. 

"How was your day?" she continues with a grin. Cassie stalks over to the door, her feet landed loudly the carpet in a dramatic display of revulsion.

"Alright," he says through a sigh. "Like you said, s'even better now. Kinda spent most of it missin' you, baby."

The door snaps shut and, despite her sister’s obvious jealousy over someone, anyone, making Lexi the center of their world, there’s only one thought rushing through her mind. He called me baby.

Her teeth gnawing at the center of her cheek are just one challenge to finding a response. There's also the rush of adrenaline in her belly, and the flush of heat on her cheeks, and an undeniable tingling sensation between her legs. She has to remember to breath.

“Sorry, ion’ mean to be derogatory,” Fez blurts, a quicker cadence than his typical slow pace. “I guess we talked about a lotta things, but we ain’t talk about me callin’ you that…”

He was right — they had talked about a lot of things, especially since school started and he had fully settled into life at the Taylor’s house. They talked about what happened that night, right before the play. They talked about the feelings that Lexi felt, ad nauseum, through each act of said play as that saved seat meant for him sat empty. They talked about Ash, and they talked about the hospital. They talked, more frequently, about what happened at school or practice or rehearsal that day. And, just last weekend, they talked about their relationship status. A relationship status that definitely made it appropriate for him to call her baby.

“It’s okay,” she mumbles softly, responding just as he trails off. “I like it. You can say it again.” 

The soft grumble of his voice continues, "Baby, baby, baby." There's a hint of teasing in the word, but she knows he savors speaking it as much as she loves hearing it. Lexi chuckles and flops herself onto her back and stares up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on her ceiling. "Like that?" he goads, his voice turning more suggestive.

"Yeah, like that," she says, her cheeks pained from a wide smile. There's a very good chance that his expression matches hers on the other side of town. She thinks to return the gesture, call him baby, too. But it doesn't feel quite right. Maybe they don't need pet names, but she's waited long enough for this relationship to blossom into something real, something more tactile than the bounds of her imagination. Lexi wants all the silly little clichés of a high school romance, and she wants Fez to have them too.

He clears his throat to break the long beat of silence, and a rush of bravery allows Lexi to ask the question on her mind. "And what should I call you?"

[barzfrommarz]

Why do I still love c!wilbur so much?

small essay type post to just gush about c!wilbur

One thing that always surprises me is why I stayed with c!wilbur

Before cc!wilbur even confirmed the allegations, I dropped him and lovejoy because it was becoming way too stressful and way more obvious it was him even though he had became a special interest and a huge part of my life

So why didnt I do the same with c!wilbur?

Better question, why couldn’t I?

Maybe it’s because back in March of 2022, my online friends had just stopped being friends with me a week prior. Specifically on March 17th 2022 (correct me if i’m wrong) the first stream that kick started the apology streams happened. I think that’s was what reignited my interest fully, since I had changed myself so much for my ex friends since they hated dsmp so much and it was basically my entire personality

It was also an outlet to interact with people, since these specific friends were my only friends at the time.

It was so nice to have a community of people who love the same thing I love. Making art, fanfiction, theories even songs. It was great and it was definitely one of the best times of my life (in the recent years)

The days leading up to the final were the greatest but also the most nerve wracking, esp since I wanted c!wilbur to have a good ending and basically not die

Waiting for the stream to start on Sept 3rd 2022 was so exciting, I remember sitting in offline chat just waiting for a fucking minecraft stream to start. Something I had never done

Now im not gna critique the ending in this post. I have my gripes with the apology tour in general but thats not what this post is about.

It was surprising to watch. Not what I had expected but it had its charm and I grew on it eventually. Going on twitter afterwards kinda sucked but it stopped eventually

The community was still going strong. Even if our favorite character is completely retired. The love and passion was still there, especially for me. It seemed like my love for c!wilbur just got more intense

After the dsmp ended and 2023 rolled around, thats when I noticed things kinda slowing down a bit. I know why of course. Loveshit was kicking off for William so its obvious why more people gradually moved on from the dsmp and fan content slowed down. Including me!

I wont go more into it but it was disappointing for me as someone who just couldn't move on from c!wilbur and the dsmp to see everyone on all the main platforms I used move on. Yeah tumblr was still active but I didn't use it as much back then

Then of course, the allegations came out

Im not proud of how I acted during the first night. You could say I was very very delusional and willing to make up excuses and drown out a victim all for some white guy I didn't know.

Thankfully, the next morning I came to my senses a bit and left, soon after joining everyone in just waiting for him to respond. Luckily I had some great mutuals on twitter and we were all there for eachother, even though I was the least affected since I was more mad at the fact I wasted years of my life on him than upset.

You all know how the story ends, he responded and everyone hated on him blah blah blah

but throughout all of that, I still stayed with c!wilbur. Not any other bursona. I cant engage with any of the other bursonas because they remind me too much of william, so why is c!wilbur different?

Well one obvious factor is my autism. C!Wilbur and the Dsmp is one of my biggest and longest lasting special interest so I dont think its going away for atleast 2-4 more years atp. Who knows maybe ill be 24 years old still yapping about a minecraft server that I liked when I was 11

I also think its because of the dsmp community on tumblr. Yeah the c!wilbur part has gotten understandably smarter but the people who have stayed are awesome and cool and so creative but most importantly strong

We have all been through it. From the allegations to the shit we get from outsiders for showing slight interest in c!wilbur and the dsmp in general.

I also see it as one massive fuck you to William. Taking his creation for ourselves then actively hating on him in the process. Shipping the ship he has gone on record to say its not canon is also pretty cool

So I guess I just want to say thank you. I could not have kept my interest alive if it wasn't for you guys continuing to create despite the creator being a degenerate. This stupid little character has single handedly kept my passion for creation and art going so strong. If you look through any of my recent sketchbooks most of the pages have him on it. I got into wrighting and reading fanfiction because of c!wilbur (and c!tntduo but we dont talk about the fanfictions ive read). My point is this character means alot to me so to all the remaining c!wilbur fans...

Thank you, truly

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Oh gosh how am i gonna survive all this that last ep TOOK ME OUT and now THERE’S STILL AZURE TO TAKE CARE OF ITS INSANE HOW WELL THE CREW UTILIZES TEN MINUTE EPISODES I FEEL LIKE I WATCHED A WHOLE HALF SEASON SCREAMS

OKAYOKAY

PT 2 OF THE SPECIAL CALLED THE PLAN MAN OH THAT SOUNDS FUN AND CHILL LETS GO (lmk s4 special spoilers ahead)

OKAY HERE WE GO

SOBS LOUDLY LISTENING TO THE THEME SONG

I AM MENTALLY ILL Y’ALL

OKAY

OH HEY

OH HECK ANOTHER

ANOTHER FLASHBACK

OH MY GODS I WASN’T EXPECTING A WHOLE OTHER FLASHBACK

I THOUGHT IT WAS BROS SPARRING IN THE PRESENT BUT NO THIS IS

HECK OH MY GOSH

AZURE

YOU N ME

THE WAY

AZURE LOOKS

AT MONKEY KING

SUS PIECE OF CRAP

LOOKS AT HIM LIKE HE’S HIS HOPE FOR THE WORLD

HE IS JUST A TINY MONKEY AND HE’S USING HIM LIKE THAT

THAT’S INSANE

WUKONG REALLY SEEMS TO WANT TO IMPRESS AZURE AND BE A PART OF THAT AND AZURE FR SEES THAT AS A TOOL BUT THAT ITS OKAY THAT IT A TOOL WHAT AN INTERESTING AWFUL FELLA I HATE HIS BLUE FURRY FACE

ALL OF US :D

immediately looks for macaque THERE HE IS :D

NEW OUTFIT

HELP

HE SOUNDS LIKE AN ANGSTY TEENAGER

OKAY

THAT’S GREAT VIBES I’M WHEEZINGN;SLDFMAWOEF

WUKONG FR THE MOM FRIEND CONFIRMED? /J /J /J /J/ JJ

MACAQUE’S EXPRESSION PLEASE I’M CRYINGBDSF;LMW;EF

WOW HE’S

HE WASNT’ ALL FOR IT HUH

LOOK AT HIM

HECK DUDE

HECK DUDE

WHEN HE STARTS TO MAYBE SLOW DOWN A BIT

AZURE HYPES HIM RIGHT BACK UP

ALL BECAUSE OF YOU

PEOPLE WILL NEVER LIVE IN FEAR

AND THAT SOUNDS PRETTY GOOD

YOU KNOW THAT’S ROUGH

THIS VERSION OF MONKEY KING WAS MANIPULATED INTO THE DOING WHAT GOT HIM UNDER THE MOUNTAIN HUH, BUT WHILE THE OTHER PERSON NEVER ACTED LIEK THEY DID ANYTHIGN WRONG SO ALL HE COULD DO WAS BLAME HIMSELF MY GOSH

HOW DID THE CELESTIALS LET AZURE LIVE DUDE, HE LITERALLY IS AN EX CELESTIAL THAT MUTINIED AGAINST HEAVEN AND PUSHED PEOPLE INTO DOING SO, BUT BECAUSE MONKEY KING WAS AT THE HEAD HE GOT OFF WITH JUST THE SCROLL OR SOMETHING? THAT’S WILD

YA BIG SWEETIE

YOU ME AND THE BOYS

OH

OH WOW HELLO

THAT WAS HIS FLASHBACK

YOU KNOW ITS ACTUALLY SO INTERESTING HOW AZURE DOESN’T THINK HE’S DOING ANYTHING WRONG

THAT’S WILD

ITS

ITS SO INTERESTING

THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HIM  

ITS

ITS SO WHACK

WHAT IS THIS

I’M SO FASCINATED BY THE HECKING

SEEMS TO CARE SO MUCH??

BUT??

HE SUCKS??

SHAKES THIS BURNT PIECE OF MOLDY TOAST

FUNNY WHEN HE HAS EVERYHTING HE JUST KEEPS THINKING BACK TO WHEN  HE JUST HAD THE BROTHERHOOD AND WUKONG

WHAT A FUNKY CHARACTER THEY’VE MADE HERE HE’S SO WEIRD

I WANT TO PUT HIM UNDER A MICROSCOPE

OHHHHOHO WHATS THAT

GOT DISTRACTED AND THINGS STARTED TO FALL APPART AGAIN

YELLOW-TUSK FR LIKE BRO SO MAYBE WE SHOULD TAKE A STEP BACK

WOW I FORGOT ABOTU THAT CLEVAGE

WOW WHO DREW THAT LAST FRAME

THE DETAIL

DANG

ALSO WOW I’M WHEEZINGNLS;DMASDF

THEY FR

I’M FULLY PREPARED FOR THE BROTHERHOOD TO TURN AGAINST AZURE BECAUSE THEY SEE HIM TEARING HIMSELF APART Y’KNOW?

MAN

M A N

AZURE FEELS LIKE WHAT HAPPENED WITH WUKONG WAS A BIG OL SACRIFICE HUH

SO INTERESTING

OWA

THEY BACK ON MOUNTAIN

SCREAAAMS

LOOOOOK

I’M WILL CRY

HELPGMLSDM

CHECKING OT MAKE SURE NO ONES THERE

THAT’S SO SILLY

HE’S BACK

WE GOT OUR MONKEY BACK

HELPGNLSKMDS

THE PENG STINKY LINES

EVERYBOIDY JUST HATES THAT GUY HUH THAT’S SO FUNNYGSDNFLWEMF

MONKEY CLASS IS IN SESSION I’M SMILING SO MUCH

SANDY

MY ABSOLUTELY BELOVED

AND PIGSY SO HECK

TANGS SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS HELPGN;LSDKFMD

HE’S STILL HASNT’ CHANGEED

NEZHA SITTING LIKE THAT IS SO FUNNY

Its actually so good to have monkey king back fr i’m in tears

smARTIE KID IS IN ATTENDENCE

SOBS

LITTLE LOTUS PRINCE

WHEEZING;SFAEW

“I’m… I’m not gonna do that” no yeah Zuko vibes i’m just gonna say it i’m sure someone else already has but i’m HGL;SDFJA;OIWEFMAFD

he’s gotta be like a teenager in this

he just has the vibes

I adore them all so much you don’t understand

MK’S FFACE WHEN SANDY INVITES NEZHA OVER

WISE MASTERS I’M BEING TRAINED BY THIS SEAOSNHGLKSDJSD TANG BREAKING THE FORTH WALL PLEASELGMS;DOFWE

WISE MASTER

LET ME KNOW WHEN HE GETS HEREEBGL;DSFMABG;OAIWF

I

THE CRAYON

THE

HELPGMNLSDKMAWE

“I think you burst a stitch” whoever drew Nezha looks like they’re having so much fun

YOU’LL BE FINEBG;LSMAOWEF

You know they’re really leaning into making Nezha seem more like a teen in this ep actually his energy is just off the charts amazing

BIG IMORTAL BABYGL;SDFJASDF

DO YOU WANT ME TO THROW CRAYONS AT YOU

IS THIS THE BREAK FILLER EPISDOE? BECAUE I’M LAUGHING SM AND ENJOYING THIS LIKE CRAZY ITS WONDERFUL

ALL THE PICTURES IN THE BACKGROUND ARE SO GODO

THE BOX OF CRAYONS PLS

“THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT”

WHEEZING;LSDKFM

I LOVE HIM SM

OH RIGHT MONKEY MK

WE HAVEN’T REVISTED THAT HECK I WONDER IF HE’LL GO APE AGAIN

THEY?

PENG THEY/THEM PRONOUNS FR OH MY GODS HELLO?? OKAY THAT WAS DONE RIGHT I LOVE HOW CAUSAL IT WAS AND NOT A BIG DEAL BLESS YOU MONKIEI KID I’M ACTUALLY SO TIRED OF MEDIA MAKING IT A BIG INTRODUCTION DEAL EVERY TIME SOMEONE SAYS THEY’RE THEY/TEHM OR SOMEONE INTRODUCES THEM AS THEY THEM SO THIS IS SO FREAKING NICE BLESSSSS YOUUUU ALSO BEIGN THEY BUT BEING PART OF A BROTHER HOOD IT NTO BEING A BIG DEAL OR ANYTHING? AMAZING, 10/10 WE LOVE TO SEE IT I DON’T KNOW I JUST LOVE THAT SM

PENGS SUPER POWERFUL HELLO? COOL

HELPGN;LSDMA;OWEF

EVERYONE JUST

HATING ON PENG

I THOUGHT THEY WERE INTERESTING

CREW REALLY WENT

OH YEAH

THEY’LL HATE THIS ONE

AND DIDN’T WAIT FOR AN ANSWERGLKSMFAOWE

TOUGH SMART FASTER THAN HE LOOKS YELLOW-TUSK

OHHHH

I LOVE THAT ACTUALLY

WE’VE ALREADY GOT HINTS OF YELLOW-TUSK RECONSIDERING IT MIGHT TAKE LESS THAN YOU THINK

MAN ITS NICE

BUT HE’S NOT A MONSTER

WHY DID THAT GET OT ME

HELPGSL;KAEF

I

KAY

THIS

I NEED TO PROCESS LIEK THREE THINGS

NOTHING GETS UNDER HIS SKIN LIKE A MONKEY

HE BASICALLY JSUT “WE’RE GONNA ANNOY THE CRAP OUTTA THIS GUY MK AND ME”

ALSO WHATS WITH MACAQUE AND SMELLS THIS SEASON

LAST TIME IT WAS “interesting” AND NOW ITS “smells” I’MGBS;LDFKMWE

GONNA BE ON WUKONG LIKE A BAD SMELL

IS IT REVENGE HE WANTS? IS IT? I might be disappointed if its just revenge cause he doesn’t’ seem like he wants revenge so much as feels he needs Wukong out of the way and must  make that sacrifice yada yada, revenge feels basic for what seems like a complex character rn y’know? bUT HEY LIKE EITHER WAY THEY DO IT I’M GONNA END UP LOVING IT CAUSE THEY DO IT SO WELL SO HECK IT MY GUYS

FR CALLING HIM A STINKY MONKY EVERY FIVE SECONDS I’M CRYIMNGNSD;FLKMWE

HEY

I GOT THE CRAYON I DO THE SAYIN

THAT’S SO FUNNY PLS GJLKSDJFL;WA;F

I LOVE HIM

I ADORE HIM

HE’S EVERYUTHING TO ME

once again Nezha is so good he’s just sitting there grumpy like

ALSO THE VOICE OF REASON HE REALLY IS

I actually

You know what

getting emotional over how they’re all on board with whatever plan monkey king comes up with this time

like season 3 they had nothing but doubts but now they’re all ready to hear him out and listen and OH MY GODS GUY’S HE’S ACTUALLY TELILNG THEM THE PLAN

THEY’RE KEEPIGN CAHRACTER GROWTH I’M IN TEARS

THIS IS ACTUALLY SO GOOD? BLESS YOU MONKIE KID CREW ILY

THE BRAINSTORMING TOGETHER

OH BOY HERE COMES TEENAGE SARCASM

Y’all if Mk’s older than Nezha- CAUSE I CONSIDER MK TO BE LIKE 20 OR SOMETHING AND IF NEZHA’S A TEEN THAT WOULD MAKE ALL OF THIS OS FREAKING FUNNY

THAT

WHAT A CRAYON

WHAT A HIT

THERE’S THAT POSE AGAIN

I’M CRYINGBSD;FAMWE

THIS IS EBAUTIFUL

THE CRAYONS

NO SARCASM ALLOWED IN MONKEY KINGS CLASSROOM

ON TRAINING TIME?

LETS GOOOOOOO

WAIT THIS IS SO FUN??

HELLO???

PIGSY JUST YOINKED THAT MAN

HUG

OH WOW THEY’RE ACTUALLY

OH THAT’S BEAUTIFUL

LOOK AT THIS HYPE BATTLE

THIS IS SO NICE

OH ARMOR???

POWER UP

LOOK AT HIS PROUD EXPRESSION

FREE POWER UPS WITH ARMOR FOR FREE

LETS GOOOO

WHERE’S OUR COOL BATTLE ARMOR

AWW WHEN YOU’VE EARNED IT

WHEEZINGS;AFMAWEO

HELPGMNLSKFMEW

ITS THEIR WEAPONS

THATS SO FREAKIGN FUNNY

WHAT A NICE MONTOGUE

“so we all know i’m the greatest teacher in history”

“ughhhhh this guy” MACAQUE’S QUIET COMEMNTARY PLEASE;GSMKF

HEY

OKAY HURTFUL

PLEASEL;KMGSDF

HE’S NOT THAT BAD

LIKE HE SAYS JUST NEEDS SOME WORK

HE’S ACTUALLY PRETTY DECENT HIS EXPLAINING JUST NEEDS A LOT OF WORK

BUT ALSO ITS?? SO NICE?? HE’S COMFORTABLE SAYING HE’S GOTTA WORK ON THAT NOW?? ITS GORGEOUS I’M CRYING I LOVE HIM

MK TIMEEEE

I LOVE THAT

SHOWING HIM HE TRUSTS HIM AND LETTING HIM BE INVOLVED

NGL MONKEY KING AS A MENTOR REALLY IS SO GOOD

MEI LOOKS SO HAPPY FO RHIM LIKE YUP

CAUSE YOUR’E THE PLAN MAN MAN

AW

SUPPORTIVE DADSY

MK’S LITTLE BASHFUL SMILE

I ADORE

“I mean one of us could beat him, one of us specifically”

“NOPE NONE OF US AT ALL.” HELPT THAT’S SO FUNNYGHDSNFASMF

GET SCROLL

OH

SLAP EM BACK IN

HELPNL;SKMASDF

SO

JUST

SLAP EM BACK IN WHERE THEY GOT OUT OF

AND EVERYHTING WILL BE BACK TO NORMAL

.

Y’KNOW ASIDE FROM

NO JADE EMPEROR

HOW’S THAT GONNA WORK

HELPGLSDF

THE WAY MK DRAWS THEM ALL

MONKEY KING LIKE THAT

NEZHA LIKE AN OLD MAN

TANG GETTING A PIGGY BACK RIDE ON PIGSY G ET IT? CAUSE PIG?

SANDY CARRYING MACAQUE AND MACAQUE’S BLANK EXPRESSION I LOVE THIS

HELPGNSDF

MACAQUE ON TOP OF THE BLIMP

Mk’s doodles for how they win is actually

so good

always

they make me so happy

Nezha still looking like half deadNG;LAKWMFE

SOUNDS LIKE YOU’RE ALL OVER IT SANDY

WELP LOOKS LIKE HE’S BUILDING ANOTHER BLIMP  HUH

THE WAY HE DRAWS AZURE

OH MY GODS WHO DREW THESE

I NEED TO HAND THEM ALL MY MORTAL POSSESSIONS FOR HOW THEY’RE DRAWING MACAQUE AND NEZHA I’M CRYING;DSAWE

HE’S FACEDOWN ON THE FLOOR

MACAQUE IS JUST STANDING THERE I’MGNMSLDFMD

LOOK AT HIM DRAW

“If you have to ask… you’re probably on team be”

HE’S SO ANNOYED ABOUT HTAT PLEASE;LKMGSF

PLS MONKEY KINGS’ APPLAUDING IN THE DOODLE, THINKS MK’S SO COOL AND EPIC, HE DOES MK I PROMISE YOU HE THINKS YOU[‘RE COOL YOU ARE COOL

THE DBK FAM ARE FRIENDS

I LOVE THAT SO MUCH

I LOVE THIS SHOW

WHOEVER DREW DBK I NEED THAT AS KEYCHAIN OR STICKER OR ANYTHING

SHHHLURP UP THE BAD GUYS

SO THEY CAN NEVER MAKE US FACE THEIR NIGHTMARES AGAIN

WHY DO THEY KEEP DRAWING HIM LIKE THAT’ PLEASE ITS SO CREEPYGSLF;

WE;’RE ALL GONAN DIENG;LSMF

THANKS TANG

AGAIN

NEZHA IS JUST

SITTING THER I’M WHEEZING

LOOK AT THE ROOM

I LOVE HOW MESSY IT IS ITS SO NICE

I LOVE THAT PIGSY’S ON THE FLOR HE LOOKS COMFY

THIS IS A SILLY PLANNING EPISODE I LOVE IT SM

Okay y’all can trash talk Peng all you want I actually adore them, they’re so dramatic, Macaque has chilled out and now we have this guy and i love them

I LOVE HOW THEY’RE

ITS JUST THE TWO OF THEM

AT A BIG OL BANQUET TABLE

PENG ILY

YOU’RE SO FUNKY

a little chaos might be good for the world

WHY DO I FEEL LIKE AZURE’S GONNA WALK IN AND BEAT UP YELLOW TUSK OR SOEMTHING

OR GO BACK INTO THE SHADOWS ANGRY

I DON’T KONW

I LOVE THAT YELLOW-TUSK KNOWS ITS NOT SUSTAINABLE

HECK DUDE

HE’S ACTUALLY HORRIFYING

HOLD UP THAT WAS CHILLING

COMES TO FIND THEM ALL HAPPY AND JUST

WOW HE’S NOT DOING SO HOT

also wow yeah that’s a lot of cleavage monkie kid why you’re killing me here i can’t take him seirouslyGN;LAMFAWE;NF

YEAH THOSE DUDES LOOK TERRIFIED

HE’S

STILL SMILING

PENG’S SWEATING

HE’S TRYING TO HYPE THEM

AND HE’S

NOT LOOKING GOOD

PENG TRYING TO

YELLOW TUSK IN TROUBLE

LETS GOOOOOOOOOO

THREAT TIME

OH

OHHO

NOT THREAT

PENG

PENG HOW DID YOU KNOW THIS??

HOW OD YOU KNOW THIS??

OHHHHHH

OHHHHHHO

WAIT THIS IS LIKE

POWERFUL PERSON

IS DISTRACTED BY ONE PERSON

SO ITS NOT LIKE REVENGE ITS LIKE

NEED THEM GONE SO I CAN FOCUS

CAUSE IF NOT THEY’RE ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT

HOW INTERESTING

THEY’RE SO WEIRD

AZURE IS SO WEIRD

CACKLES

OKAY

WELL NOW I’M A LITTLE WORRIED FOR WUKONG

BUT

ITS NICE THEY CAN REALLY DISTRACT HIM NOW

ITS INTERESTING HOW YELLOW-TUSK WANTS TO CONFRONT IT AND PENG WANTS TO IGNROE IT, THIS IS LIKE DYSFUNCTIONAL TOXIC FMAILY ALMOST

(i’ve been watching too many therapy videos)

AHEM

ANYWAY

AZURE SURE IS A GUY

I HOPE WUKONG IS GONNA BE OKAY

HELPGPGLKSDMF

THEY GOT AMROUR FOR HTE LITTLE MONKEGSDNBF;ANFA;AWE

OH MY GODS

PIGSY

HE MADE THEM A SILLY LITTLE APRON

AND CARVED THE LITTLE MONKEY A WOODEN SPOON THATS SO HECKING CUTE YOU GUYS

ONE MONKEY APPRANTLY JUST LIKES HANGING WITH PIGSY IG

THAT’S SO NCIE

actually whoever drew pigsy there i would like to high five you you drew him so nice and shaped i adore

DRAMATIC MACAQUE

OH SANDY YOU’RE GONNA PASS OUT BLOWING THAT UP

s

scary? ;-;

nooooo

buddyyyyyy

YUP HE STILL HASNT’ ACCEPTED THAT PART OF HIMSELF THAT’S

YEAH

HECK DUDE

WHO DREW THAT

WHO DREW THE “IT’LL BE FINE” WHO MADE HIM SHAPED LIKE THAT I’M CRYNIGBDSF;LKMAO;EF WELL DONE IM CHOKIGNSD;FM

WHEN WE LOOK THIS GOOD AIN’T NOTHIGN GONNA BEAT US

HE IS

TRYING SO HARD

COME ON WUKONG U GOTTA TALK TO HIM

PLS DONT’ CALL UR MONKEY FROM SCARY MKKKKKKK WUKONG IS A MONKEEEYYY

;-;

u cant just

ignore this whole part of ur power cause it scares you |;A;/

PLSSSS

UH OH

LOOKS LIKE HE CAME TO THEM

MACAQUE INSTANTLY SHADOW TRAVELING EVERYBODY TO THEM

HOT DANG HE IS ON THE BALL

PIGSY AND DANG FALT ON THE GROUNDMGDFSFD

OH MY GOODNESS THAT IS GONNA MAKE SUCH A TRANSITION FOR AMVS HOLY CRAP I’M EYEING UP THAT BIT

OH BOY

MK BUDDY YOU MIGHT HAVE TO MONKEY UP TO SAVE YOUR MENTOR U H

WHAT A LINE ACTUALLY

I WILL TEST THE LIMITS OF SUN WUKONGS IMMORTALITY

THAT WAS

WHAT A LINE

HECKING

SCREAMS

OKAY

THAT WAS PRETTY CHILL ALL THINGS CONSIDERED

NOW WE GET TO THE AMV RICH ANIAMTION HUH?

THERE’S TWO MORE EPISODES AND THAT’S IT

THERE’S TWO MORE FULL EPISODES THAT MAKES ME SO WORRIED FOR WUKONG

I LOVE HOW THIS EPISODE ILLISTRAITED SO MUCH CHRACTER GROWTH AND POINTED OUT WHERE MK NEEDS MORE OF IT

SCREAMS

OKAY

I NEED TO GET MOVING TO THE NEXT ONE PEACE

KNOX OUT

[beauty-and-passion]

FSS3: Season 2 finale - Part 1

Welcome, everyone, to the unofficial season 2 finale.

First I will post the four parts of my take on the season 2 finale of Sanders Sides, then all the episodes of season 3.

Updates every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

HERE is the explanation of the project

HERE is the introductory post

HERE the AO3 link to read this part (every part will be available both here and on AO3)

As said in the introductory post, Fanders Sides Season 3 (season 2 finale included) could have triggering themes/scenes. Please keep that in mind before reading.

And now, finally, let's start.

_______________________________

This episode serves as a recap of the situation until now.

Thomas and Nico are on a date and we get to know Nico a little more: he studied art and literature. He wants to be a songwriter and a few singers already commissioned him some songs, but he’s still not gaining enough money to leave his current job. So, he keeps working as a bartender and he usually picks the night shifts, because the salary is better. Also, he’s kind of a night owl, so he doesn’t mind staying up late.

Thomas comes back home, still giggly and excited about the date. Everything was perfect, everything was amazing, Nico is amazing.

Roman approves and revels in the beautiful feeling of love. He looks completely satisfied and relaxed, even if his expression still shows an underlying tension.

Logan is happy too. Nico seems nice, but they are still wasting too much time in basic discussions about themselves: they should talk more about art and literature, since Nico is an expert in this field. They can compare their favorite writers, talk about their favorite singers and discuss the different musical genres.

Roman doesn’t care about the topic of their conversations: they can talk about everything they want, they can even talk about grocery lists and it would still be wonderful and perfect.

Patton is happy for Roman and admits that yes, Nico really seems like a nice guy. It’s good Thomas found love, he makes his old dad proud!

Virgil gives a sarcastic remark: jeez, thanks Patton for giving your approval, now we can keep seeing him. But we’ll do it anyway, because Nico seems a very cool guy.

Thomas agrees: Nico is great, isn’t he?

All Sides give their approval, except for Janus, who just stays in a corner, minding his own business. Thomas notices it and asks him what he thinks about Nico.

Janus replies that he’s not interested in Thomas’ mushy, romantic feelings. They are not his area of expertise.

(Both Roman and Virgil give him a dirty look.)

However, adds Janus, since it looks like this guy makes Thomas happy, he is happy as well.

Thomas confirms he’s very happy indeed and tells his Sides there will be another date tomorrow. He is over the moon, he can’t believe Nico enjoys his company so much, to ask him for another date!

At the same time, he’s a bit worried: is it okay? Are they truly ready for this? He doesn’t feel… ready. Is he going too fast, maybe?

Roman laughs: too fast? If anything, they’re going too slow! Thomas should’ve already confessed his love and called Nico his boyfriend! But they’re still stuck in the “friends/a little more than friends” stage! Thomas should make his move asap and get Nico before someone else does it.

Yes, Remus confirms, by suddenly appearing and scaring the shit out of everyone (except for Logan, who just rolls his eyes). You better get a move on, Thomas. Just tear his pants apart, then go straight for the d…

You can’t hurry these things, Logan interrupts Remus. Relationships take time to grow, hurrying them would lead to regret and disappointing expectations.

Patton agrees: Thomas needs more time to get to know Nico better. Right now, he cares for Nico, sure… but he doesn’t love him yet.

Janus confirms that yes, of course Thomas needs more time. He cannot pretend to fully know a guy he met twice.

Roman dismisses their protests: they don’t know what they’re saying and they’re all stupid anyway. They just talked about how cool Nico is and how great this relationship is for Thomas! Of course they should make the next move as soon as possible! But Virgil knows better and he will side with Roman, right?

Virgil takes a moment to look around and bite his nails. Then, under Roman’s expecting gaze, he finally admits that Thomas needs more time.

Roman is shocked: what? Why? Weren’t they both on board with this?

Sure they are, Virgil confirms. But they also need more time.

Roman raises his voice: they did it together, Virgil was the one who pushed Thomas to start this relationship and now he wants Thomas to slow down?! Doesn’t he care about Thomas? Doesn’t he see how happy he is and how happy they both are? Thomas and Nico should be a couple asap! They should be boyfriends now!

Every word makes Virgil feel more and more uneasy. The others notice it and, in the end, it’s Janus who snaps first by asking Roman a simple question: do they really know who Nico is?

Sure they know, Roman replies. He’s the cute guy they met in the mall, he’s a poet, a songwriter, an artist and a beautiful soul.

And what does this “beautiful soul” really want? Janus asks. Are they really sure Nico wants Thomas for who he is? What if he wants to exploit Thomas’ fame for himself? What if his kindness is just a façade and all Nico wants is to use Thomas to pursue his career? He admitted he’s not making enough money with his songs: but if he finds a guy with a stable fanbase and enough money, he can drop the job he doesn’t like and let Thomas pay everything for him.

Roman protests: Nico is not like that! He didn’t even know Thomas was an influencer! Heck, he had absolutely no idea of who he was, before Thomas himself told him today! It’s pretty clear he doesn’t like him for his fame!

Janus crosses his arms: so you think it’s pretty normal that a normal guy accepts a date from the weirdo who admitted he spent hours spying on him and his backpack?

It was to check if he was gay as well!, Roman protests. Thomas wasn’t “spying” on him!

So it wasn’t weird? Janus retorts. A guy approaches you, tells you he was checking if you’re gay and you think he’s good enough for a date? Would Thomas have done the same? Of course not. But what if it was a famous influencer who stalked him and asked for a date? Now that guy doesn’t seem such a weirdo as before, right?

Not good in both cases, Logan replies. You cannot trust random people, whether they are strangers or influencers.

So, Janus continues with a thankful nod towards Logan, since this is common knowledge and Nico looks clever enough to know that, then there should be another reason why he thought it was okay to accept Thomas’ request: he knew who Thomas was and wanted to exploit the situation.

Roman protests again: Nico accepted Thomas because he was touched by his purity and honesty. By openly admitting what he was doing, Thomas proved he was good and kind. And since Nico is good and kind too, he agreed to go on a date with him. His honesty attracted Nico, not his money or fame. And Janus would know too, if he had any idea of what honesty is.

Patton intervenes because he notices the rising tension and admits that, hey, they both have a point. Sure, Nico seems trustworthy and kind and nice… but they also do not know him well enough to be sure. And even if he feels it’s okay to trust Nico, he wants everyone to feel the same. And Thomas should think about it too.

Thomas agrees with Patton: he should take his time, until every part of him feels more at ease with the idea of pushing things further with Nico. He should learn more about him, to know where his heart is. And Nico should prove to him that he likes Thomas for who he is and not for his fame or money.

Patton nods: he’s very proud of Thomas’ decision. He’s really growing up and becoming a mature boy!

Janus agrees too: Thomas should keep his guard up and not blindly trust everyone.

Logan agrees: a longer relationship will only strengthen their bond.

Virgil approves too: spending more time developing their relationship will make Virgil feel more at ease and ready for when it will be time to push things further.

Remus shrugs and leaves, without a single care.

Roman, on the other hand, doesn’t say anything. He just balls his hands into fists, before sinking with a furious expression.

_______________________________

END CARD

Virgil and Roman are discussing and Roman accuses Virgil of not siding up with him. Three Sides were against him, but if Virgil sided up with him and his stupid brother, they would’ve reached a tie. But he chose to take these traitors’ side instead!

Virgil justifies himself: it’s not that he doesn’t want to push things further with Nico, but all things need time and he’s the first who needs more time. He still is 100% on Roman’s side, he just asks for a little more time. That’s all.

Roman is still angry and leaves, to sink into his room. We see a study, part of a table filled with documents/scripts/books.

Roman hides his face between his hands. For a moment, it looks like he will start to cry: the moment after, he stands up angrier than before and, with a frustrated scream, throws everything that is on his desk on the floor. He even picks up a book and angrily throws it against a mirror.

The broken mirror echoes in his ears, his reflection shows an orange hue in his eyes. Roman snaps out of his fury: he looks around, while a disembodied voice softly snickers in his ears.

Roman yells to “go away” and “leave him alone”, until the snickering stops and he’s alone again, in his trashed studio.

_______________________________

AUTHOR’S NOTE

As said in the beginning, this episode serves as a recap, because it’s been YEARS since the last canonical episode and people have all the reasons to forget what the fuck happened. So we will reintroduce Nico and raise the conflict between the Sides once again. Too many useless things happened in the meantime, we need them to rebuild the tension.

In addition to that, I wanted to reintroduce the trademark element of Sanders Sides, which is Thomas standing in his living room and talking about an issue with his Sides. Not all episodes have to be huge and complicated after all, especially this one which is just part 1 of 4.

However, along with the trademark element, I also added a new element, which is the private conversations between Sides, in which we can expand on them, their conflicts and their ideas.

And yes, I added one first little orangey hint, because it was time to give something more than just orange eyes. Consider this an additional element of tension. This is a finale, after all.

( Support me on Ko-fi )

_______________________________

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